Deadly Sins-Wrath
by TWISTEDART
Summary: Heath Thomson's life takes him along the road of deadly sins. As a teenager, the first sin he must face is Wrath.
1. Chapter 1

_**Note from the author: I hope to make a series called the Deadly Sins Series. I was going to wait to post after I finished the story but found that it is more difficult to write without feedback or without any readers : Warning The prologue can be deceiving. This isn't a story about Jarrod Barkley as you will see. (As a matter of fact, the prologue is a lead into the story but not necessarily about the story until I continue on with the series) I didn't want any Jarrod fans to start reading and be disappointed. The Barkleys will not be the center of this story but one. HEATH of course. They may make rare appearances but not necessarily. Now on with the story. I hope all enjoy. Also, Nick isn't as far apart in age of Jarrod as assumed by most stories. (2 1/2 years apart in age)**_

 **Romans 6:23 For the wages of sin is death;**

The Deadly Sins

 _the sins of pride,greed, lust, ( **wrath** )_ _, gluttony, envy, and sloth_

 **Wrath-Prologue**

 _Stockton, California  
Three Years after the Civil War_  
 _May 4, 1868_

Twenty-Six year old, Jarrod Barkley pushed his sweating hand through his slicked back hair. His steps were paced quickly as he headed towards the jailhouse. The sun was unbearably hot on him considering he was wearing his newly purchased three piece suit. It was one of the two suits he had proudly purchased with his own money. Jarrod didn't know why he wanted this case to start out with new suits, one to meet his client and one for court. This suit was a lighter gray than the dark suits his father had picked for him. Jarrod felt light gray was more his style. Yes, his style was needed so he could finally be the man he wanted himself to be. His father and mother had bought him plenty of suits for his career as a lawyer. But this was different, he wanted this case to be all about his dreams and not theirs.

Jarrod had finally finished up law school after the war. At nineteen years of age, the young law student decided he needed to go fight for the cause of the Union Army. Thomas J. Barkley protested vehemently while Victoria Barkley cried silently. She understood her eldest son's need to be his own man and to fight for his own justices. So in July of 1861, Jarrod joined the war. Soon after his joining, his high intelligence brought him up in the ranks and he was assigned to Army Intelligence. The only regret with joining the war was the fact his younger brother, Nick, joined up two years later. Nick was eighteen. Nick was now a twenty-three year old man. He, along with their father, ran the Barkley Empire. Jarrod still handled the legalities of the family business. Yet, the young man wanted more of his life.

He had been building his reputation as a lawyer in both Stockton and San Francisco. Joining the war as a Union soldier had helped delay his schooling. Helping his brother on the ranch was also a deter to putting off his dream of being the lawyer he wanted to be. Fortunately, his father had realized Jarrod didn't belong on the ranch like Nick did. Thus, when Jarrod spoke honestly of wanting to be a lawyer, his father proudly said to follow his dreams. Thomas Barkley added a lawyer could be used to help in building the Barkley empire.

His thoughts of the past were halted as Jarrod watched a leaf being twisted and twirled on the dry cracked dirt road. The leaf reminded him of his life thus far. It too was being thrown uncaringly about with no real destination. That was up until now.

Jarrod Thomas Barkley Esquire had proven himself in every type case from civil to business. He had more victories under his belt than losses. However, Jarrod had not yet gotten to sink his teeth into what he really longed to bite into. He wanted to right the wrong, save the innocent, and bring truth and justice to those who needed it both victim and the falsely accused. Jarrod Barkley wanted to defend or prosecute criminal law.

And now, a case was thrown in his lap. A case that Judge McCoy claimed was already in the bag. For the PROSECUTION. What was Judge McCoy's words again? Oh yes. "All that needs done is the rope purchased for the noose."

Well, Jarrod would just have to see about that. After all, Judge McCoy had said the accused had no lawyer to take his case. Therefore, Jarrod was assigned it. Jarrod had memorized his notes. The man was a known gunfighter. He was wanted for a murder that took place over a year ago. He had killed at least seven men so far that the records showed. Most of those kills were in gunfights as far as what witnesses saw. The man had probably killed more but no one witnessed it. Jarrod wasn't exactly out to prove him innocent. After all, there were witnesses for this particular murder. However, he would hear him out and try to keep the man from hanging. Life in prison would probably be the man's best bet. Even that would be prove difficult as the man had served two months in prison already but had escaped only to kill again.

Yes, Judge McCoy had not done Jarrod Barkley any favors by throwing this case at him. However, Jarrod still appreciated that he was finally going to have a case in criminal law.

The sheriff arched his eyebrow as Jarrod walked through his door. "Don't tell me you got stuck with this case, Jarrod?"

"I believe so, Sheriff Madden." Jarrod shook the sheriff's hand. "How is he doing? Is the prisoner causing you trouble?"

"No. Actually, it is the opposite. The boy hasn't said two words to me." Sheriff Madden pushed back his hat from his eyes.

"Boy?" Jarrod questioned in confusion.

"You better come with me, Jarrod." The sheriff stood up and retrieved the keys as he did. "See for yourself."

Jarrod was taken aback by the young boy in the jailcell. He couldn't have been no more than sixteen or seventeen. He didn't look like the hardened criminal Jarrod had read about in the file. Actually, if anything, the boy looked almost angelic with his cherub face and blonde hair. Even his blue eyes sparkled with innocence as he looked up from the cot he was lying on.

"I'm Jarrod Barkley. I was assigned to be your lawyer." Jarrod reached his hand out between the bars of the jailcell. He placed his hand back down to his side when the young man refused to take it.

A small chuckle could be heard from the boy as he glanced up at Jarrod. It was then that Jarrod noticed the soft blue eyes harden into anger. The boy spoke quietly surprising both Jarrod and Sheriff Madden.

His slow southern drawl accentuated his words. "This is going to be fun."


	2. Chapter 2

**Romans 6:23 For the wages of sin is death;**

The Deadly Sins

 _the sins of pride,greed, lust, ( **wrath** )_ _, gluttony, envy, and sloth_

 **Chapter One-Wrath**

 **March 1866**

 **Strawberry, California**

The creaking sound of an old swing swaying in the wind haunted the town of Strawberry, California. Those that passed by the green cabin whispered about the event that didn't really shock the town but made for good gossip.

Three women once lived in that house and a boy. Of the three, only the former prostitute survived and the boy, her son. The boy was addled in his mind folks said. He was even moreso after what he witnessed that day.

There were whispers that another boy lived there once too. He had left to join a war that was meant for men but was pursued by boys. If rumors were true, the boy was twelve when he left to fight in a man's fight. That was three years ago. The war had ended over a year ago.

A tall man walked beside his daughter making their way to the general store. They had to pass by the cabin due to it being nearer to their house. The man and girl were an unlikely looking pair yet they were relatives. The balding man was tall and thin. The girl was petite in stature like her deceased mother was. It was obvious to any that knew the father and daughter, there was much love between the two. The older man couldn't imagine his little girl going through the events of three weeks ago. The haunted event that took place in that cold abandoned cabin was still fresh in his mind. He shivered slightly as he squeezed his daughter's hand tightly.

"Do you think he'll be back, Papa?" The redheaded teen girl glanced up at her father as they passed the now abandoned house.

"Don't rightly know, Libby. Heard tell that he was captured and was either dead or in a Confederate Prison camp. If the boy is alive, he won't want to come back here." Mr. Keene pulled harder on his daughter's hand as to bypass the deserted cabin hastily.

Libby shivered as a cold wind blew across her bare arms. Folks in town said the place was already haunted. Libby didn't think so. Miss Leah and Miss Hannah were too Godly of women not to be taken to heaven. Their souls wouldn't linger in this desolate place. Yet, the devil himself couldn't have placed a crueler ending to their lives.

After passing the cabin, Libby startled at the sound of breaking glass. She peered over her shoulder to see the one known as Rachel yelling at two teen boys.

"Get out of here! Have you no respect!" The once harlot screamed as her voice broke with pain. "Leave them alone to rest in peace!"

Libby watched as Rachel cleaned broken bottles from the graves at the side of the green cabin. She heard Rachel talking to her departed friends as if they were still there. Miss Leah had Miss Rachel move in with her so the former prostitute wouldn't have to return to that type of life. Once again, she felt her father tug her hand.

"Papa, Heath will kill those men for what they did. If he survived the war, he'll kill every last one of them." Libby swallowed the burning that suddenly attacked her throat. She missed her friend.

"Nonsense, Libby. Heath is barely fifteen. Fool boy joined a war at twelve. What can a fifteen year old boy do to five grown men?" Mr. Keene stopped and knelt by his daughter. "I know how fond you were of that boy, Liberty. But you can't be his friend. You and I both know you have a promising future. If he is still alive, Heath Thomson is a bastard that can only pull you down. Especially now. That boy is going to want revenge. I'd not want to be around feeling his wrath."

Libby nodded at her father as they made their way up the walk to Barker's General Store. Barker's was the only store left in the slow dying mining town. Libby spotted the two teen boys, who had thrown the beer bottles at Leah's and Hannah's graves.

"I'm going to talk to some friends while you get things, Papa." Libby released her father's hand as they stopped by the mercantile door. Her papa had took to holding Libby's hand after that horrible night. He wanted to protect her as best as he could.

"That's fine. But don't you dare head towards that hotel. Ya know what the Simmons folk are capable of. If they can sell their own kin…" Mr. Keene stopped his words.

No use fretting his daughter over the facts that led to the death of the two women and the insanity of the third. Not to mention that poor boy who witnessed it all. The boy was already addled in the mind but to see such a crime committed in front of him made his weak mind worse. Mr. Keene thought to himself that at least the childlike boy's mother lived through it even if her friends did not. He supposed Rachel Caulfield being a former prostitute had been done to similar in her life while little Miss Leah was an innocent woman despite having given birth to a child out of wedlock. And poor Hannah. Mr. Keene figured she died trying to keep the men away from Leah. The black woman always was protective of little Miss Leah. She treated her like her own child. Heath would be angry over losing Hannah too. They were so close. The tight knit family was a strange one but love resided once in that little green cabin.

"Okay, Papa." Libby smiled sweetly at her father as she agreed not to go by the hotel. She loathed the people that owned that place almost as much as Heath Thomson did. Her father headed into the mercantile to get a few items to make it through the week.

"Hey, Libby." Ward Whitcomb slouched against the side of hitching post out front of the mercantile. "Reckon, you been pass the cabin."

"I have." Libby plopped down on the stairs that led up to the wooden boardwalk. She nodded at the larger boy beside of Ward.

The boy's name was Hank. He was three years older than Libby and Ward, who both had just turned sixteen. Heath was the youngest of the trio of friends as he was barely fifteen.

Hank was a robust boy with bad hygiene and a worse attitude. He had bullied Heath since they could remember. Heath was always smaller than normal due to not eating as much as a growing boy should. Hank and a few other boys made Heath's life miserable due to his circumstances of birth. At least that was the excuse they used. Honestly, it was picking on the weak that made the bullies feel powerful.

Hank smiled at Libby revealing his rotted teeth. "Hey, Lib."

"Ya'll ought not be throwing rocks at Miss Leah's and Miss Hannah's graves." Libby fiddled with the lace on her satin dress. Most were afraid of Hank and his Pa. Libby wasn't because she knew Hank had a major hankering for her. So she spoke up as she pleased.

"Why? Ya think it may be true about them haunting this town now?" Ward adjusted his shoulder against the rotting post getting more comfortable.

"No." Libby rolled her eyes. "But Heath was our friend, Ward. Not to mention Miss Leah was kind to us all. Even you, Hank, despite how you treated her son. She gave us free cookies every time she baked them. I don't know why you'd throw rocks at her grave. That's all."

All three knew how poverty stricken Heath and his mama were. They knew the cookies were made to be sold. Even Heath rarely ate any. Although his mama had offered him one each time she baked. They took the treasures offered by Leah when Heath would not.

"Heck, Libby." Ward rubbed the back of his neck feeling guilty. "Heath ain't around any more. He left and I'm friends with Hank now."

"I never had no care for the bastard." Hank chuckled slightly. His grammar showed his lack of education like most in the town. "Although I do admit his mama was a nice woman to me. She was still a …"

"That's enough, Hank Garland." A young saloon girl scolded as she stopped in front of the trio of teens. She had been in Barker's store buying some items for the other saloon girls. The girls at the saloon took simple pleasure in the sweet smelling soaps that Mr. Barker had shipped in once a month. "Leah Thomson was a good woman. Don't be scorning her name."

"You're only saying that, John, because ya liked Heath." Hank crossed his arms over his broad chest defiantly. He didn't care for the girl any more than he cared for Heath Thomson. His pa said both were bastards and should've died at birth. Hank wasn't one to argue with his Pa. His mama argued with his Pa once. Once is all it took.

John was the name given to the young girl by her mother, who was also a saloon girl. It was a terrible name given by a terrible woman. John's mother said the girl could belong to any John, Paul, or Harry that had walked through the saloon doors eighteen years ago. It was obvious the girl didn't belong to any white man. She was a rare beauty with green eyes and caramel skin. Her dark hair laid in natural ringlets down her back.

John snarled at Hank as she popped her plump ruby red lips together. "Ya are just mad cause at age twelve, Heath Thomson was better in bed than you or your Pa."

The young saloon girl knew her words weren't exactly true. The girl had never been with Hank but his dad was another story. Hank's Pa was the vicious sort who slapped around the girls. Fred Garland paid for his time so he was allowed at the back of the saloon like all other patrons.

As far as Heath was concerned, she was with the twelve year old but it wasn't magical. If anything, it was awkward. John had decided that if Heath was going to be a man and join the war, she would bestow the honor of making him a man in other ways. She was fourteen and had been sold since she was eleven. Besides, Heath didn't call her John but he called her Johnna. The name sounded prettier to her ears.

"Don't matter none anyway!" Hank backhanded Johnna as he spit out the words. "The bastard is dead."

Johnna, as she decided to call herself, grabbed her face to ward of the stinging. She wasn't afraid of any man. Although she realized she should be. Especially after what happened to Leah and Hannah.

"Hitting me won't change that fact, Hank. Ya'll don't know he's dead."

"The war was over part near a year ago, Johnna." Libby twisted her finger in her red curls. She prayed Johnna was right. She wanted Heath alive just as much.

Libby knew the name Heath had chosen for the young saloon girl. She also knew that Heath had been with Johnna. He hadn't told anyone. He was respectful like that. However, Ward told them all thinking he was bragging on his twelve year old friend. Ward had been there the day that Johnna led Heath to the back of the saloon.

Johnna shrugged slightly. "Don't know if he is dead or if he ain't. That's all."

"John! Get your hide back to the saloon. Miners are heading in. Need all the girls there!" Screamed Johnna's mama from the swinging doors of the local saloon. The saloon sat adjacent the hotel and the general store.

Johnna's mom was named Grace but the men just called her Red for her red hair. There was nothing kind or graceful about her anyway. The robust woman wore a tight red corset outside of her faded yellow dress. The corset caused the fat to be squeezed upwards. Thus her plumpness added to her ample display of bosom. Her ankles could be seen below her too short dress alerting anyone who cared to look of the heaviness of her body. Her face was extremely over done with pale powder and red rouge. The white wig she wore saw its better days years ago. Still some men sought her out when desperately wanting a female companion. In a place like Strawberry, California, men weren't too picky.

Johnna's mother pulled Johnna to her. She cupped her face and frowned at the purple bruising forming on Johnna's face. "Hank Garland, if she doesn't get customers tonight, I'm charging your daddy double!"

Johnna flinched as her mother's fingers twisted a knot in the girl's hair. She pulled Johnna through the saloon doors cursing her as she did so. Her words were of chastising Johnna for leaving the saloon and getting hurt. After all, Johnna's rare beauty was what some of the wealthier clientele paid for. Bruising her pretty face wasn't her mother's concern. The money lost due to the bruising was.

"Do you think she loves him?" Libby shifted on the step as she looked up at Ward.

"Who?" Ward had picked up a few rocks and were skipping them across the dry dirt road.

"Johnna that's who. Do you think she loves Heath? Do you think that's why she doesn't want to think him dead?" Libby blinked a few times trying to keep the dust from going into her eyes.

Hank saw Libby trying to keep clean and blinking the dust away. As always, he came to her rescue. "Ward, stop throwin' them there rocks. Ya's a kickin' up a dust."

Ward stopped immediately due to his fear of Hank. There was no use getting beat up over a few rocks.

"I think she loves him." Libby sighed slowly. "I think Johnna loves Heath more than she loves anyone in this world."

"I suppose she does." Ward plopped down on the other side of Libby. "He's about the only one that treats her decent. I don't think it is the marrying type love though."

"Figures though. She's a black girl and he's a bastard. The two fit together." Hank fidgeted with straps on his overall bibs. "You're always talkin' of him, Libby. Do ya love Heath?"

"He's my friend, Hank. I'll tell you this much though. I would love Heath a whole lot more than someone that hits a girl. No matter what color that girl's skin is." Libby made her point clear. She liked Johnna even if her Papa wouldn't allow her around the saloon girl.

"I won't be hittin' her no more. But she best quick mouthin' off to me." Hank glanced up when Mr. Keene walked out of the general store. Hank immediately helped Mr. Keene with his bundles. "I'll run this home for ya, Mr. Keene."

Mr. Keene and Libby walked behind Hank as they made their way back home. Mr. Keene had big plans for his Liberty. She was going to be famous one day. If the dreams didn't come true, Hank could make her a decent husband. A lot better husband than Heath Thomson. He knew his little girl had always taken a shine to the golden haired boy. Mr. Keene couldn't help but be grateful that the blonde boy wasn't around any longer to steal his daughter's heart.

Besides the way that blonde boy loved his mama and the black woman, he would be trouble for anyone around him. If he did come back alive, Heath Thomson would definitely make someone feel his wrath.


	3. Chapter 3

**Romans 6:23 For the wages of sin is death;**

The Deadly Sins _the sins of pride,greed, lust, ( **wrath** )_ _, gluttony, envy, and sloth_

 **Chapter Two**  
 **Strawberry, California**  
 **June 1866**

Johnna glanced up at the cabin off in the distance. The graves could be seen from the back of the saloon. Rachel kept them as tidy as possible. Yet, some wayward teen or vagrant always managed to mess up the lonesome graves. Rachel worked every morning to clean the graves, talk to her friends, and place a rose from the small bush on each grave.

As far as the little green cabin, it was in shambles. Rachel didn't dare go in due to the scenery was still in display inside the cabin. The haunting images taunted with the deadly incident to anyone who dared to venture inside. Rachel's son wouldn't even go near the cabin at all not even to help his mother with the graves. Therefore, they both lived in a room over the saloon. The barkeep allowed Cotton to clean out the spittoons for the room. Rachel could wash all the liquor mugs that Johnna couldn't keep up with.

Rachel's son was named Cotton due to his snow white hair. Her husband had named him even if it was a strange name. Rachel cherished her husband. Afterall, he had taken her from the life of a prostitute and made an honest woman out of her. Both parents adored Cotton.

Cotton's father and him had taken to the fever when Cotton was only six years old. His father died but Cotton survived. However, the fever had done something to the boy's mind. It had caused him to be childlike in nature. Cotton never seemed to grow up past those six years of age in mind but grew in body. Leah took Rachel in after the death of Rachel's husband. Along with Hannah, The three women were the best of friends.

Rachel loved her white haired boy as much as any good mother loved her child. Town people didn't understand a woman keeping a boy, who never grew up in his mind. Leah had understood as she was chastised for keeping her own son, who was born out of wedlock. Most folks thought both women would be better off without the boys ruining their lives. Leah and Rachel looked at it differently. Heath and Cotton were their lives.

"Ya think that bastard is gonna come back for ya, John!" Red's voice caused Johnna to jump slightly. "Cause he's dead. If he ain't, even you're not good enough for him."

"Never thought anything like that, Ma Red." Johnna answered as she finished dumping the dish water out the back door. "I was just wondering if Rachel needs help tending to their graves."

"Never you mind. You got too much work to do around here, girl. Now git up stairs and make up the beds. Heard tell some men folk are headin' this way from a cattle drive. NOW SCAT before I pull that pretty hair from your head." Red hated that her daughter turned out so beautiful.

Those that knew Johnna was her daughter would comment about how beautiful she was compared to her plain looking mother. Red also hated of all the men she had laid with it was a man of color to plant his seed. Blast him to Hades as far as she was concerned. At least the girl was good at cooking, cleaning, and pleasing a man. Not that many men would lay with Johnna because the girl wouldn't seek out the men like the others. Although it was obvious most men wanted the young girl, the girl hated being touched by them. Her mother usually shoved a man towards her daughter. Some didn't want to lay with a dark skin. That were their words. Even though those men would never admit it, they all found Johnna strikingly beautiful.

Johnna finished making up all the beds with clean linen. A lot of men liked clean sheets after a long cattle drive. Most of the miners in town could care less. They were too drunk to care when they came into the rooms in the back of the saloon.

After making all the beds in the back of the saloon, Johnna sat on her own bed. She prayed her sheets would stay clean for the night. Most of the cowboys would use the beds long enough to get pleasure then head back to the hotel. Johnna prayed she was the only one to use her bed tonight.

As Johnna opened her eyes from the silent prayer, she felt a tear trickle down her cheek. She hoped that God still listened to girls like her. She had always prayed she could be more like Miss Leah than like Ma Red. Guess God might not listen to girls like her after all.

That evening, the piano keys jangled away a familiar tune. Johnna's prayer had been answered somewhat as the man lying beside her had passed out before her sheets got dirty besides the fact he was sweating like a stuffed hog.

Johnna curled up in a tight ball far away from the snoring drunk. She decided to sleep and not wake him up. At least this way, her mama would think she was earning her keep. Maybe she could even convince the man that she had earned her coin before he passed out. Sleep came fitfully for the girl but she finally lulled off to sleep.

The low howling of the wind echoed an eerie wail of sorrow as the shutters to the green cabin smacked against the clapboards of the house. Libby pulled her cover over her head to drown out the haunted sound. She squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to steady her breathing. When a loud banging caused her to sit up startled in her bed, Libby scurried to close her window. She knew the heat was stifling tonight and the wind was a welcome intruder into her room. Libby didn't think the cool night air was worth the nightmares that would invade her sleep due to the sounds coming from the green cabin.

When Libby reached to close her window, she couldn't help but look towards the cabin. She clutched her throat when she saw the glow of candlelight coming from the cabin window. She then saw a figure cross in front of a window in the cabin. Libby pushed herself away from the window and fell back onto her bed. She bit her bottom lip as she steadied her nerves.

"Don't be a coward, Liberty Keene. Ghosts ain't real. If they were, Miss Leah and Hannah aren't the type to haunt a place." The redhead told herself as she tried to calm her racing heart.

Making up her mind, Libby pulled on some of her chore clothes. She pushed her window open more to make room to climb out. Her papa would never let her go out this late especially after what took place a couple months ago. However, Libby needed to know who was in the cabin.

Libby remembered where Ward had said Johnna's room was at the back of the saloon. She had ran as fast as she could pass the green cabin before sneaking to the back of the saloon. Libby knocked lightly on Johnna's window hoping the saloon girl wasn't entertaining a man tonight.

Libby's efforts were rewarded when Johnna peered out her window. She glanced back at the sleeping figure in her bed then whispered.

"What are you doing out so late, Libby? Your papa will be mad."

"You have a man in there?" Libby tiptoed to look into the window. She cringed when she saw a tall lanky man sprawled out on Johnna's bed.

"He's out drunk. Answer me." Johnna pulled herself to allow her legs to dangle out the window while she sat on the windowsill.

Her saloon dress hadn't been removed and she dared not change into a cooler night gown in fear the man would wake up and want her to earn her coin.

"There is someone in Miss Leah's cabin." Libby rubbed up and down her arms briskly. The air was stifling hot but her nerves caused her to chill. "What if…"

Johnna pushed herself from the window to the ground. She tiptoed to look at the sleeping man once more. "Let's go. He's out cold for awhile."

"Could be the men came back?" Libby walked with Johnna towards the cabin. "Or some thieves?"

Johnna took Libby's hand to steady her own fears as much as Libby's. "Not likely. Most folks know how dirt poor Miss Leah was. She was poorer than us saloon girls. As far as the men, they done what they did and won't be looking back on it. They're long gone from this town."

Both girls decided their best chance of not being harmed was to try to go around the back of the cabin and look through the kitchen window. If it was a vagrant, they could leave him be. If it was a thief, they'd not bother him ether. It was highly unlikely on both parts.

Both girls tiptoed on the old rickety porch that led to the empty vegetable garden. A board creaked causing both girls to stop moving long enough for silence to happen again. Then they proceeded towards the window clasping one another's hand.

Both girls screamed out when the back door came crashing open. Libby fell to her knees pulling Johnna along with her. Both girls' bare knees hit the old wood on the porch causing slight pain to them both. Their eyes were wide as the figure stepped out onto the porch. The girls stopped screaming when they saw what seemed to look like an angel staring down at them. Only this angel was dressed like a teen cowboy.

"Is that you, Johnna and Libby?" The figure stooped down beside the girls.

"Heath?" Johnna was the first to speak. She then let go of Libby's hand and threw herself into Heath's arms. "Oh Heath! You're alive!"

"And beautiful." Libby whispered as she sat staring dumbfounded at the teen boy who had left town as a child.


	4. Chapter 4

**Romans 6:23 For the wages of sin is death;**

The Deadly Sins

 _the sins of pride,greed, lust, ( **wrath** )_ _, gluttony, envy, and sloth_

 **Chapter Three**

 **Strawberry, California**

 **June 1866**

The girls had followed Heath into the cabin after he insisted. They sat at the old kitchen table as Heath poured them a cup of coffee. He stepped up to the table and placed the steaming mugs before them.

"I washed the cups and the coffee pot." Heath said as he sat down across from the girls. He watched as each girl blew on her cup of coffee. "I ain't the best at making a cup of coffee but it will calm you both some."

"Where'd you come from Heath? Or more like where have you been?" Johnna asked as Libby seemed to be dumbstruck by Heath's handsome features.

Libby blushed while looking at him. On the porch, she had thought he was beautiful like an angel. Now, she realized he was all male and so handsome it made her heart thump rapidly. The boy sure had grown up in three years. Heath was already a beautiful child. Now, he was a gorgeously handsome young man.

"I was with some men on the cattle drive. I've been working for a spread for awhile now. The boss said that Strawberry was close enough to where we sold the cattle. I could go visit my mama and my aunts." Heath glanced around the room. He frowned slightly but continued talking."Mr. Henry, that's boss's name, he's been helping me by writing Mama letters. Ya both know I can't read nor write. I can sign my name but that's it. Mama can't either but I reckon she had Rachel read them to her. " Heath smiled crookedly at the girls.

This time both girls felt their hearts leap as they stole glances at the handsome teen cowboy.

"I'm sure she did." Libby finally spoke. She didn't want Heath thinking she was duller than dish water. "Rachel gathered the mail often, Heath. But no letters came since the war has been over. Last letter your mama got from you was before you went to that prison camp. She received a letter telling her from someone in the army about you being captured and taken to a Reb prison camp. We all thought you were dead."

"I didn't." Johnna clasped Heath's hand hoping he didn't pull away. She could feel the tension in his shoulder's when she had hugged him earlier. Heath didn't embrace her back then. "I didn't think you were dead."

Heath didn't pull his hand away. He only nodded. "Uncle Matt probably intercepted the letters. I sent Mama some of my pay. I should've known better. What happened here? The place looks abandoned." Heath swallowed as he peered around. "The furniture is all over the place or broken. Looks like dried blood about too. Did some wild animals take up living here after Mama, Hannah and Rachel moved out?"

Libby burst out crying before flinging her head down on the table. Heath tried to control his breathing at the redheaded teen's distraught actions. He glanced up to Johnna for answers as she seemed to be the calmer of the two teen girls.

Johnna squeezed Heath's hand. "It is a sad story, Heath. Your Aunt Rachel can tell you more than we can."

"Mama's dead. Isn't she?" Heath jerked his hand away from Johnna. Heath stood up quickly. He paced back and forth. "Isn't she?"

"Yes." Johnna bit her lip. "Hannah too."

"What happened?" Heath said in a demanding voice. He sounded older than his age and more menacing than the Heath they once knew.

"Rachel lives over top of the saloon. We can go ask her." Johnna stood up.

She walked over to Heath. She pulled his face to look at her. She was shocked to see he shed no tears. After peering in his eyes, the shock left. Although the boy refused to cry or show emotion, his eyes were a window to his soul. She saw the hurt there.

Johnna slid her hand across Heath's cheek. There were fine hairs growing there just like they were on his chest, which was partially bare due to a few buttons undone on his shirt. He was becoming a man in body. She figured his eyes told he had been a man long before his body started becoming one.

Heath allowed Johnna's soft touches to his face. He had been with saloon girls here and there but hadn't felt the soft caring touch of a female since his mama. That was when he was twelve.

"Where are they buried?" He didn't want his mama in a potter's field. Yet, he knew she would never be allowed to be buried in a church yard.

"Beside the cabin. Out by the little rose bush." Libby stood up as she wiped her eyes on the back of her sleeve. "Miss Rachel keeps the graves real good."

"Cotton?" Heath asked as he closed his eyes still relishing the feel of Johnna's fingers softly caressing his face.

"He's with Miss Rachel." Johnna leaned her head into Heath's chest. Her arms went around his waist as she rested there. His heartbeat pounded in her ears. He was here and alive. She began to sob against his chest. He could feel her tears trailing down his hot skin as the tears soaked in his threadbare shirt.

Heath placed his arm around Johnna as his other hand gently wrapped in Johnna's curly tendrils of hair. He knew the girl was crying for him. Because he was unable to cry, she was crying for him.

Girls like Johnna had seen the worst of people. Now, he knew Johnna had looked into his eyes and saw the same harsh reality of this world staring back at her. She knew he had faced the hardness and the coldness of man. Therefore, she cried for the boy lost and for the man, who could no longer shed tears for the sorrows of life.

"We best get going. Red will beat her senseless if that man wakes up and Johnna is gone." Libby's voice still hitched with tears as she spoke. "You can go talk to Rachel in the morning. Papa may let you stay in our barn. I don't think you should stay here."

"I can stay here. I cleaned up Mama's room." Heath said as he continued comforting Johnna. "But Johnna ain't going back there tonight. I'll handle her ma. I got money to pay for your time, Johnna."

Johnna nodded in agreement. Then the three left the small green cabin to lead Libby home. Libby couldn't help but think the cabin didn't seem so scary with Heath back.

The rays of the morning sun bombarded Johnna's sleep. She stretched out her long shapely limbs before glancing up from her pillow. There Heath stood leaning on the windowsill peering out towards the Eastern sky.

In the light of the morning, Johnna could see Heath's body was still very much a teenager. He was lean but taut with muscle. The boy had surely worked hard to get that much muscle on him. Johnna slipped her hand over her mouth when she realized his back was not only marked with muscles from hard work but with scars from hard flogging. Heath had endured so much in his life. Like she, they were outcasts. However, she had never been flogged or beat like a slave had. Ma Red like to hit her and some of the patrons, especially Fred Garland . However, Johnna was thankful a whip had never touched her back.

The dark skinned saloon girl slipped out from under the coolness of the threadbare sheets. She glanced over at the small table beside the bed. Two coins lay on the table waiting for her to take. Time well spent with pay more than enough. The irony that Leah Thomson's bible lay near the coins didn't go unnoticed by Johnna. Undeterred, she slipped the coins inside of her dress, which was hanging on the bed post. Ma Red would take a switch to her if she didn't bring back something for being gone all night.

Johnna prayed for forgiveness for taking Heath's hard earned money. Afterall, if it were up to her she wouldn't charge him for her time. She enjoyed spending time with the blonde cowboy. After her short prayer, Johnna didn't slip her dress on but made her way to Heath.

The boy had his jeans on but no shirt. Johnna leaned her bare torso against his bare back. She felt the ridges on his back against her skin. She also felt Heath flinch at her touch but he calmed after she eased her cheek to rest on his shoulder blade.

The girl couldn't help but think he was a child still in body. She had seen grown men and the fifteen year old wasn't one. She reminded herself she too was a child at age seventeen. At least, they shared that as well as other things. Children living in an adult world.

Heath was experienced now compared to the twelve year old boy, who was skittish as a newborn colt around her. Now that he was fifteen, Johnna could tell he had been with other women. It saddened her slightly that she was one of the women who had stole his innocence away. For the first time, Johnna wished she had not led the twelve year old into her room that night over three years ago. She was fourteen at the time. Johnna felt that was no excuse. She wielded the power over the child then. Now, she felt her heart racing as she realized this young man could mold her to his will if he only asked. She knew he would not ask even if he possessed the power to do so.

"Rachel did real good burying Mama and Hannah there. Mama always liked the sunrise." Heath spoke about the small graves outside of the bedroom window. There was a long pause before Heath spoke again. "How many were there? I can tell it was more than one by the mess in the front room."

"I heard tell it was five in all." Johnna whispered into Heath's back. "Heath, Miss Rachel can't come into this house now. It haunts her. She isn't herself either. I'm just warning you. But she comes to take care of the graves every day. I think she talks to them both."

"I'll ask her to step up to the back porch. You reckon that will bother her?" Heath slid his hands over Johnna's hands, which were playing with the small patch of hair on his chest.

"Not rightly sure, Heath." Johnna kissed his back between his shoulder blades. "I know the men entered from the front but it all happened in the front room. Not on the back porch."

"I don't think they made it past the front room." Heath's voice was monotone, which frightened Johnna if she was to admit it. He definitely wasn't the scared kid anymore.

"You want to come back to bed, Heath?" Johnna hoped she didn't sound like she was pleading even if she was doing just that.

"I'd like that. But I can't. I need to check out the front room in the daylight before Rachel comes by." Heath pulled away from Johnna's embrace and went to pick up his discarded shirt off of a nearby chair.

"I can stay and help." Johnna knew her voice sounded desperate to him.

She couldn't help it. It was nice pretending she was his and he was hers for a little while. It was like a game of make believe. What did the little girls call it when she heard them play? _Playing house._ She never got to play house before. She wasn't allowed to join in their fun with their dollies. Yes. She wanted to pretend a while longer and play house.

Johnna began to button up Heath's shirt for him. He stopped her by placing his hands over her trembling fingers. "You helped enough last night, Johnna."

Johnna stared up at him. Her eyes brimmed with tears. Biting her lip, she felt her heart twist and constrict until Heath tapped her nose with his finger. "You don't have to help but you can get dressed and stay with me today. You can get one of mama's dresses from the trunk at the foot of the bed. It would be nice having a friend around while I do what I got to do."

Heath kissed the crown of her head before pulling away and finished buttoning his shirt. He left Johnna to get dressed while he went to assess the front room.

Johnna slipped into the soft worn dress once belonging to Leah. It wasn't much to most but to her it was like a princess's gown. Although the dress smelled of must due being in the trunk for a few months, it still was better than the smell of stale liquor and cigarettes like her dresses. The worn cotton was soft to her skin compared to the tight lace of her saloon dress. The dress fit tighter in the bust but looser in the waist than it had Leah. The dress was also slightly shorter on Johnna than Leah. To Johnna, she felt like the most beautiful woman in the world wearing the plain cotton dress.

The girl's fingers played with the cotton as she studied the dark blue flowered pattern on the pale blue dress. The dress was faded from the original color of the material it once was. Johnna wondered how many hours Leah had put in sewing the dress. Johnna wished she could sew. She'd make a dozen dresses just like the one she wore now.

Johnna stopped fidgeting with the dress when she heard a crash from the other room. She knew that Heath was raging in private. A tear slipped down her cheek as she thought of the boy she loved. And she did love him. She loved him so fiercely it ached. Johnna knew why she loved him. She loved him because he was the only one in her life who ever treated her like she was somebody. She loved him knowing the love wasn't returned.


	5. Chapter 5

**Romans 6:23 For the wages of sin is death;**

The Deadly Sins  
 _the sins of pride,greed, lust, ( **wrath** )_ _, gluttony, envy, and sloth_

 **Chapter Four**  
 **Strawberry, California**  
 **June 1866**

Rachel collapsed beside the graves when she spotted Heath come out of the green cabin. Her body was overwrought with emotions. Her fingers dug into the dirt of the graves until her knuckles whitened and her fingertips bled. She began to rock her body back and forth as sobbing wracked her too thin frame.

Heath bent down to enfold the one he called Aunt Rachel into his arms. "Shhhh. Aunt Rachel, please calm down. I'm here now."

Rachel's sobbing ebbed but her body slowly trembled as Heath held her. She reached to touch his face. Her bleeding fingers left traces of blood and dirt on his face as she softly traced his cheeks.

"You're alive. Heath, you're alive."

"I sent letters, Aunt Rachel. Did mama think I was dead?" Heath allowed his body to be rocked as Rachel rocked against him.

He waited as she hummed an old gospel hymn. Finally, his patience paid off as Rachel came back to herself.

"She always said you were alive. Leah always said she'd know if her boy was gone from this world."

Heath knew exactly what Rachel was speaking of. Although he had questioned where his mother was, he had felt an urgency to return to Strawberry a couple of months ago. Mr. Henry, his boss, had told him that after the cattle drive going near Stockton, California, Heath would have time to visit his mother and aunts. Heath knew then it would be too late. He had felt it in his very being that his mother was no longer alive. Feeling it and having it confirmed were two different things. It hurt more than he realized even if the teen boy could show no emotion over it.

"Can you sit with me on the back porch, Aunt Rachel?" Heath stood then offered Rachel his hand.

Rachel looked skittish as she glanced at the green cabin. She bit her dirty fingernails before nodding. "The back porch? I can do that. I can go to the back porch."

Heath cleaned up with water from a barrel by the back porch. He helped Rachel clean up as well. Johnna acted as hostess as she brought some biscuits and hot tea to Heath and Rachel. Heath smiled up at her as the girl happily deposited her gifts to them. Johnna headed back to the kitchen to prepare Heath a hearty meal of items she found stored among the shelves. The girl loved cooking and waiting on people. Although the moment was dreary, Johnna felt levity for the time being.

Heath sat on the back porch swing. He had built the old swing himself when he was a small boy. Hannah and he had tied it up with an old rope. Although the swing was crude in looks, it was strong in the making. Rachel sat in an old rocking chair, which she had brought with her when she moved into the cabin with her son in tow. Because three women and two boys lived in too small a place, the rocking chair was sat on the back porch. Here they could overlook the little garden that once fed the family of five.

Johnna put up the items to wait for lunch before making her way to the porch. She sat beside of Heath. He pulled her to lay her head on his lap. His fingers delicately played in her hair as he pushed the swing back and forth. A breeze wafted across the back porch as they swayed on the rocked her rocker as she again hummed a hymn.

Then just as she had at the graves, she came back to herself. "It was a good day before it happened. Your mama said she was going to make some blackberry jam to put up for when you came home. Oh did she smile as she made the jam. She sang that silly song she always sang to you. She had Hannah and I laughing until we about burst with happy tears. Cotton was playing with toy horses someone had discarded by the old Johnson farm. It was a good day until it happened."

Heath glanced up at Rachel as he watched her face contort from a smile to fear. He never pressured her to go on. He'd wait her out. Johnna never moved from her spot of laying on the swing. She thought of the jam she had put out on the table for her homemade bread. That must be the blackberry jam Leah had made for her son. Heath's fingers continued the ministrations through Johnna's silky hair. Johnna knew it was a calming action for him. The simple gesture was a feeling she would relish for all of her days.

"There were five of them. They never even knocked. Just burst through the front door like they owned the place." Rachel swallowed nervously as she strummed her fingers on the arms of the rocking chair. The blood had dried but the action caused the fingers to break open again. "They said they owned Hannah now."

Heath closed his eyes as he thought of how frightened Hannah had to be at those words. She had been a slave once. Her overseer was a cruel man. The overseer was hired by Emmitt Thomson, his own grandfather. Heath was glad the man had died so he never had to meet him.

"Leah scolded them. Saying Hannah belonged to no one." Rachel stopped rocking as her voice halted. She then began humming again before she spoke. "The honeysuckle smells nice this time of year. Don't you think the honeysuckle smells nice, Heath?"

"Yes. The honeysuckle smells really nice, Aunt Rachel." Heath controlled his breathing as he allowed his aunt to drift away as she needed to.

"Is that your wife, Heath? Did you marry while you were away?" Rachel stared down at Johnna's head on Heath's lap.

"No. Miss Rachel. It's me, Johnna. Red's girl." Johnna answered for Heath but never moved from her position.

"Oh yes. Good thing you didn't marry. Your mama would want to be at the wedding." Rachel began rocking again. "Why did they have to hurt Leah? She was a good woman. They took turns with her. All of them took her as she begged for them to stop. Only two came after me. Hannah smacked at the men as she tried to save her Leah. She offered herself in Leah's place."

Rachel began to hum again then she glanced up at Heath. "Who are you, boy?"

"I'm Leah's boy. I'm Heath." The blonde felt his throat tighten as he realized the depth of Rachel's departure. Holding tears at bay caused his body to hurt all over.

Rachel was the one in their family who could read, write and do arithmetic. With Cotton to take care of, she never had much time to teach Heath how to read except to write his name but he picked up on math quickly. He still couldn't read. Despite Rachel being a saloon girl, she had went to school once. Rachel's parents died when she was ten. At sixteen, her mother's brother died leaving her with an aunt. The aunt sold her to a saloon.

"Heath. Your mama is dead. Hannah too." Rachel's cheeks were now wet with tears.

"I know." Heath could feel Johnna's fingers caressing his leg as his other leg pushed to sway the swing.

If anyone had witnessed the three, it would look like a casual conversation. It was anything but casual.

"There was five of them. All took her. Two took me. Hannah was struck so hard. So very hard. She wanted to save her Leah but they killed Hannah." Rachel hummed again before adding. "Did you know that Hannah was your mama's slave? Your grandmother Thomson gave her to Leah on her tenth birthday. She was in the field before that. But your grandmother Thomson knew she was going to die soon. She had Hannah come in from the field to take care of Leah. Do you know where they were from Heath?"

"Kentucky." Heath answered as he waited for Rachel to continue. "Hannah told me how Mama brought her with her to California along with Uncle Matt and Aunt Martha. Hannah said my mama said she was a free woman here."

"Yes. That's right. Kentucky. They lost almost everything when your mama's parents died. Matt and Leah had a little money so Martha suggested they come west for the gold. Of course, he brought Leah and Hannah with them." Rachel began rocking again. "Matt sold Hannah to the men. Those evil men. But they said …." Rachel tightened her hands on the side of the rocking chair.

Heath bit his lip before asking. "What did they say, Aunt Rachel?"

"They wanted your mama too. Said that Martha got paid some gold for time with your mama. They paid good for Leah and she was to do what they wanted. The men had seen Leah delivering laundry to the hotel. She didn't pay them no mind even though they all tried to get her attention. They weren't miners. Just some strangers who were passing through. The oldest said I was an old prostitute. I could be part of the deal." Rachel rocked faster causing the boards on the porch to moan in protest. "I passed out after that man slapped me across the face when he was having his way with me. I heard your mama screaming and saw her kicking. Then she stopped. I didn't want to pass out. Leah needed me. She wasn't used to men doing stuff like that to her. She was a God fearing woman. I saw her blink back tears before I was gone. I woke up to Leah and Hannah both dead. They beat her bad for fighting back. Your mama never stopped fighting back until they killed Hannah. I'm not sure but maybe she was dead at that point too. How much could her small body take of the hitting and the using of her? She was such a petite little thing." Rachel's voice shook. "Cotton, he was hid behind the old cook stove. He cries at night. My boy cries at night."

Rachel then smiled up at Heath. "The honeysuckle smells really nice this time of year."

Heath's body tensed up but he kept his composure. He stopped swaying the swing and running his fingers through Johnna's hair. Johnna glanced to see his hands turn into white knuckled fists. Then Heath's hands relaxed. He kicked his foot against the wood on the porch as he began to sway the swing again. His fingers softly ran through Johnna's hair once more.

Heath's voice was soft and soothing."Yes. Aunt Rachel. The honeysuckles smell really nice this time of year."


	6. Chapter 6

**Romans 6:23 For the wages of sin is death;**

The Deadly Sins

 _the sins of pride,greed, lust, ( **wrath** )_ _, gluttony, envy, and sloth_

 **Chapter Five**  
 **Strawberry, California**  
 **June 1866**

Rachel, Heath and Johnna never mentioned anymore about what took place in the cabin a few months ago. Heath had remained calm for the sake of his aunt Rachel. Johnna had brought out the jam and homemade bread to the back porch. As they all ate, Rachel hummed and cooed over Heath as if he were a small child again. She talked of Cotton's hair getting too long and his needing a haircut. She told Heath they needed to have dinner together so Cotton could see him. Then she mentioned Heath could use a haircut too. Heath had to agree as his hair was touching the collar of his shirt. When his hat wasn't on, hair hung in his eyes. Heath remembered how he had the hair shaved from his body when he was in the Union army hospital. He spent four months there recuperating after his time in Carterson. Heath thought it best not to mention that terrible time to Rachel.

Once in awhile, Rachel would get a fearful look on her face and stop rocking her chair. Heath would mention what a lovely afternoon it was turning out to be. That seemed to calm her enough to allow her peace from her haunted thoughts.

After Rachel Caulfield headed back to her room above the saloon, Heath allowed his anger to take over his being. He marched into the bedroom he had used the night before. The boy retrieved his rifle from under the bed. Heath made sure it was loaded before he headed towards the front of the house.

Johnna watched but never tried to stop him. Heath may have been a teen in body but he was every bit his own man in thought. She knew better than to try and persuade him from his actions. Heath had to do what he felt he had to. Therefore, Johnna stood back watching Heath's every move.

Heath stopped momentarily to glance at the blood smeared on the floorboards of the old cabin. He wondered which blood trail was his mama's and which was Hannah's. He stooped to pick up a clump of hair from off of a block of wood. The hair was blonde tinged with red blood. His mama's hair and clumps of her skin were wedged between a crevice on the block of wood.

Heath stood up and viciously threw the clump of wood out the window, shattering the glass. "Why didn't the law do anything?"

He turned to stare at Johnna seeking answers. She had no answers for him but someone did. Mr. Keene stood in the open doorway. He watched the young teen straighten his shoulders as he turned from Johnna to stare at the older man. Libby had confessed to her papa about seeing Heath the night before. The older man went to try and help the teen boy. Mr. Keene could already see the anger devouring Heath.

"Because of who she was? Ain't that right, Mr. Keene? Because of who she was and having me, my mama's life meant nothing so her death meant even less. Same as Hannah's life meant nothing because of the color of her skin and Aunt Rachel's life meant nothing because of her former lifestyle. Isn't that a fact, Mr. Keene? Nobody cared what happened here because of who they were?" Heath's voice was tinged with anger as he stared at the older man.

Mr. Keene nodded as he stepped out of Heath's way. He tried to stop Heath as he called after him. "Boy, revenge will get you nowhere fast!"

"I ain't your boy. I've never been anyone's boy but my mama's." Heath growled back. He cursed before he added. "Even my rich sire didn't want his name stained with my being."

Heath turned and marched towards the Strawberry Hotel. There would be answers of who the five men were and where they may have went. As Heath stepped upon the boardwalk, Liberty Keene grabbed Heath's arm. She glanced back at her Papa, who was too far away to hear her words.

"Don't go borrowing trouble, Heath. Please." Libby begged as she gripped his faded blue shirt between her fingers. "You can put this behind you. I can be your wife and we can start over. Maybe get our own place away from here. Papa wants me to be a star but I'd give that up for you. I swear I would."

Heath pried Libby's fingers from his shirt sleeve. He glanced down at her as he shook his head in disbelief. He was twelve years old when he left this place for a war. Liberty Keene didn't even know who he was or the man he had became. The foolish child was offering herself in marriage.

Ward Whitcomb and Hank Garland stood leaning on the wall outside of the hotel. They had heard Heath was back and figured he'd be heading to the hotel sooner or later. Hank was wanting to pick up where he left off bullying the blonde. Ward wanted to see his old friend. Both stepped up as Ward started to greet Heath. However, Heath's glare at the two teenagers caused both to step back away from him. Their spines prickled and turned to ice as Heath's cold glare told of the danger they would face if they got in his way. Even Hank, felt a shiver of fear pass through him as Heath walked by.

The hotel diner was full of the cattlemen who worked with Heath. There were also a few townspeople out enjoying an early dinner. Mr. Henry glanced up from his meal to see they young cowboy making his way into the hotel diner. He started to speak to Heath but halted when he saw the anger in the boy's features. The rifle in the boy's hands didn't make him feel at ease either. He knew the boy's prowess with that weapon. He had used the boy's skills to kill off vermin after his crops or ranch animals more than once. Heath was a crack shot. Therefore, the rifle held in the boy's hands was deadlier than it would be in another man's hands.

"I won't be returning to work, Mr. Henry. I thank you for the job and all but I got things I got to take care of." Heath stared away from Mr. Henry as he spoke. His eyes were fixed on the thin man behind the counter.

Mr. Henry had already heard whispers of what had happened to the women in the green cabin on the outskirts of town. He feared it may have been Heath's mother and aunt. The boy had spoken so highly of his little family when anyone could get him to talk. Mr. Henry shook his head in understanding. Too bad it was the boy's family. The blonde would've made Mr. Henry a good ranchhand to keep around.

All stared at the young blonde as he marched up to the counter, where his uncle Matt stood with his mouth gaping open at seeing his nephew. Matthew Simmons could see the look of wrath written all over the young teen.

"Now, Heath. Hannah was mine to sell as much as your mama's. The men said they only wanted her for cleaning and cooking. That's all. I didn't know about their other plans." Matt held up his hands in a surrendered pose.

"Hannah wasn't a slave to be sold, Uncle Matt." Heath gritted his teeth as he pulled Matt's face closer to his with a jerk of the man's collar. "And Mama. What about Mama? Did you sell your own flesh for a few pieces of gold?"

"I wouldn't do that! Ya got to know that, boy. She was my sister." Matt swallowed as he could feel the heat of Heath's hatred on him.

"Let go of him, bastard." Martha came barreling at Heath with a large kitchen knife drawn. No one saw where the deranged female had come from. She must have been in the kitchen watching the scene with her husband and nephew as she waited for her moment to strike.

There was a collective gasp as Heath raised his rifle and fired at his crazed aunt. Martha's body jerked as it plopped in a ominous thud to the floor. Some of the bystanders at the hotel scurried out the door as others waited to see what the blonde teen boy was going to do next.

"YOU KILLED HER!" Matt yelled as the shock wore off of seeing Martha lying dead on the floor. Blood oozed from the middle of Martha's forehead as her cold dead eyes stared into nothingness. Her hand still gripped tightly to the knife, which she was aiming to kill the boy with.

"You can thank me later." Heath said sarcastically as he turned from the bloody corpse.

Heath wasn't sure when killing another human being came without emotion. It happened sometime between vomiting at his first kill in the army to slicing the throat of another prisoner, who tried to kill a friend of his over a piece of moldy bread. Somewhere along the way, Heath quit finding killing someone as something to regret and dwell on. Life was kill or be killed for him.

Heath's thoughts went back to his uncle, who was cowering behind the counter. It was about time the man feared him instead of the other way around. "Tell me a name and I may let you live."

Matt saw the rifle barrel now aimed at him. He swallowed the bile that built in his throat. "I didn't sell your mama. Martha did but not me."

"You didn't stop them either." The muscle in Heath's jaw twitched as he pushed the barrel of the rifle closer to his uncle's face. "Now. Give me a name."

"I didn't know she sold rights to your mama. I didn't." Matt was shaking as the rifle barrel came closer to his throat.

"A name." Heath growled as he inched the rifle closer.

"Roy Hitchins. The leader of the group was named Roy Hitchens. I don't know the rest of them." Matt's face washed in relief as Heath lowered the rifle.

"Where was he from?" Heath still gripped the rifle tightly even if he had lowered it.

"I heard them talking about Modesto and Pinecrest once. I'm not sure of anything else." Matt could feel his heart racing. He couldn't believe the fear he had of his no account nephew. It used to be the other way around once.

Heath turned to walk away but as he did, Matt Simmons decided to take matters back into his own hands. He needed to control his mongrel nephew once and for all. How dare the little bastard think he could have power over him. He needed to rid the world of this blight on society.

"Get out of here! You good for nothing bastard! Get!" Matt reached under the counter.

Heath turned swiftly pulling the trigger on his rifle. The bullet sliced through the wood of the counter and entered Matt Simmon's gut. Matt's body flew backwards knocking into the bottles on the back shelf behind the counter. Glass exploded around Matt's dead body as the liquor bottles hit the floor.

The rest of the patrons, including Mr. Henry, scurried out the door. Most were proclaiming that Heath Thomson had killed his uncle in cold blood. None had seen the revolver that was in Matt's dead hands. The revolver, that was meant to kill Heath, was grasped in the long crooked fingers of his own uncle.

Heath walked behind the counter and took the Colt from his uncle's dead fingers. He glanced up to see Ward and Hank standing in the doorway with shocked looks on their faces. Heath searched through the pockets of his uncle's trousers before tossing a few bills towards the frightened teens.

"Bury them both and I'll give you more." Heath stood up. "Reckon this hotel is mine now and the money they both have." Heath winked as he noticed Johnna peering from behind the hotel entrance door. "After all, I'm their only living relative."

Hank slowly walked to pick up the dollar bills Heath had tossed towards him. He slipped in Martha's blood and other chunks of unknown as he made his way to the money. He caught himself on a table to keep from falling. Eggs spilled over onto the floor mingling with Martha's bloody hair.

Heath rolled his eyes at the clumsy overgrown boy. "Don't go making a bigger mess in my hotel, Hank."

"Yes. Sir." Hank nodded towards Heath before glancing towards Ward. "I'll get her head. Ward, you get her legs."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Six**

 **Strawberry, California**

 **June 1866**

The patrons of the hotel migrated back to their rooms later that evening. After all, they had been on a cattle drive for three weeks. The softness of a bed was better than a cold hard ground. Even if two dead bodies were removed from the premises only hours before. Besides most had worked with the quiet blonde boy, they figured he wasn't a threat to them **.**

Most also were ready to leave the desolate town of Strawberry. They knew one of the old timers was going after the law due to the boy killing in what most perceived as cold blood. The older man hadn't seemed to be in a hurry to head out. It was obvious no one cared for the owners of the hotel or the boy who killed them. Most thought they'd have done the same if they were Heath. Many were surprised to hear the two dead were relatives of the boy. All wanted to move on before any sheriff questioned them. Live and let live was the motto of the cowboys.

Heath had convinced Rachel to bring Cotton to the hotel once the bodies of Martha and Matt Simmons were taken away by Hank Garland and Ward Whitcomb. He was going to try to make her a better life than being in the loud bar. Although it was kind of the owner of the bar to put them up for little work done, Heath still knew that Cotton didn't like loud sounds or a lot of activity. The boy, who Heath had grown up with, was a quiet child before Heath went to war. He figured Cotton was even more withdrawn after witnessing the brutal rapes and murders.

"Are you sure, Heath?" Rachel fidgeted nervously behind the counter of the hotel. She glanced over at Cotton, who was fiddling with some spurs Heath had given him. The boy liked the sound of the jangling. "They might not like us being here."

Libby sat with Ward and Hank at one of the tables enjoying some of the leftover bread Johnna had made earlier. A jar of Leah's homemade blackberry jam was also sat on the table beside of the bread. They listened in on the conversation but didn't interrupt. All three had a fear of the blonde cowboy now. Even if he was still Heath Thomson. Even if he was still the youngest of the three. Even if he was smaller than both Hank and Ward. The boy had hardened while he was gone off to war. There was something dangerous about him now if the boy was crossed. None of the three planned on crossing the blonde. That included the much larger Hank Garland.

"Aunt Rachel, Uncle Matt and Aunt Martha are dead. They won't care one way or another. They're too busy begging for mercy as the flames lick at their sorry souls." Heath leaned his elbows on the counter. "Now, this place is mine. So I want you to run it. Take care of the books and get this place in top shape. You and Cotton can live here. I can't stay. I have to find those men and make them pay. The law may not have cared what happened nor anybody in this town. But I care and they aren't getting away with what they did."

It was obvious Rachel didn't want that subject brought up so she hummed a few minutes before looking at Heath.

"You'll have to fix this counter. It won't due as it is. I have some things from the cabin to get." Rachel ran her hand along the dusty top of the counter. No matter how many times Martha Simmons dusted the ran down hotel, it still collected an abundance of dust. A look of fear passed over her face before she added."But I can't go there."

"I can get anything you want, Miss Rachel." Johnna, who was on her hands and knees scrubbing the blood from the hotel floors, spoke up. The girl would do anything not to go back to that saloon. Mama Red was probably already on the warpath looking for the girl.

"Johnna and I will get you what you want from the cabin in the morning. Besides, Johnna is going to be our partner here. She's going to help you out." Heath took Rachel's hand to calm the shaking in it. He could tell his Aunt Rachel was trying to keep calm and not fade away into her own world.

"I am?" Johnna's eyes grew wide. "Me?"

Heath smiled down at her. "If you want to. You sure cooked up a mighty fine lunch for us. Figured you could cook here and wait tables. If you don't care to give up your work at the saloon? I'd appreciate you looking after Aunt Rachel and Cotton."

"Oh, Heath!" The girl jumped up excitedly. Johnna threw her arms around Heath's neck. "I'll be the best cook and waitress ya ever did see."

"I know you will." Heath kissed Johnna's lips quickly. "Besides, I don't reckon you have to let any man touch you anymore unless you want him to."

Johnna knew that Heath meant himself as well. The two had become lovers since Heath's arrival two days prior. It was strange wanting Heath to touch her when she had always been appalled by a man's touch.

"The place could use some charm. Don't you think, Heath?" Rachel was beginning to like the idea. Besides, the money that bought this hotel years ago was half Leah's. It was only right her son was the owner now. Even if the boy did kill the devils who owned it.

"You and Johnna do whatever you like to it. I trust you both to make it the grandest place around." Heath rolled the cylinder to the revolver he had taken from Matt's cold fingers. It was fully loaded but he needed a box of bullets and a gunbelt. Then he stuck the Colt in the back of his pants."I think that old Jeb Lycans headed out for the sheriff. I only have a day or so to head out before I have to explain myself to a lawman."

Rachel was back to humming and rocking on her heels. She would come and go sometimes. Heah figured running this place may bring her back. Besides, the woman couldn't do much damage to a run down hotel in a dying town if she couldn't manage it. It gave her and Cotton a good place to live along with getting Johnna away from her abusive mother and the saloon. He figured Johnna could move into one of the rooms too. Maybe the room off the kitchen could get cleaned up for her. It was storage now but that could be fixed. It was only storage because his uncle Matt was too lazy to walk to the basement for supplies. Cotton and Rachel could take his uncle Matt's and Martha's room.

"The closest lawman is in Pinecrest but he has no deputy. He probably wouldn't get here too soon and leave Pinecrest unprotected. Stockton sheriff is next but that is a three day ride compared to two days. I reckon you have time to help me with the stuff at the cabin to bring here." Johnna was wiping her hands on on old apron she had found of Martha's. "Rachel can make a list so we can get the stuff she wants."

Heath nodded as Rachel set out to find pencil and paper for her list. She knew neither Johnna or Heath could read but she didn't want to forget something. Making a list would help. Sometimes she would forget why she feared the place once her home. Then she remembered the graves of her friends and the haunted memory came back.

Heath wrapped his arms around Johnna from behind and leaned to nibble on her neck. "You taste sweet, Johnna."

Johnna trembled with desire at Heath's touch. She wanted to cry with pure joy that his touch could elicit feelings of joy rather than feelings of fear and shame.

Libby frowned as she watched Heath flirt with Johnna. She supposed the girl was beautiful. However, the girl was used goods as far as Libby was concerned. Why would he want the likes of Johnna when she was willing to be his wife? It didn't make sense to the redhead. Still, Libby did love being able to look at Heath. She was glad her papa was working in the mines today or she wouldn't be allowed to hang out where Heath had killed two folks even if they did deserve their deaths.

Johnna knew Libby and the boys were nosing in on their conversation. Therefore, she pushed Heath farther away so she could talk to him in private. Johnna leaned back against Heath's chest. "I'd like to think myself as yours, Heath. Now don't get me wrong. I know you'll not commit to me. But I don't' want no man ever touching me again unless it is you."

"I may never come back, Johnna." Heath warned her as he turned her to face him. Heath knew without a doubt he never intended to step foot in Strawberry again. "You know you can refuse me too. You aren't beholdin' to me. I can't promise to be faithful because I barely know you and you the same with me. You make me feel special is all. But like I said, you're not beholdin' to me."

"I know." Johnna felt so safe in the young man's arms. She loved him beyond words for who he was. Perhaps,she was being foolish loving an almost stranger. Foolish or not, she liked the butterflies that flitted in the pit of her stomach when Heath was around.

Johnna didn't want another man to lay his hands on her. If being with Heath was the last man to ever touch her, she'd be blessed. She knew Miss Leah was never with another man after Heath's father. Johnna figured God was finally answering her prayers. She was going to be like Miss Leah and not Ma Red now.

They had reached an understanding that day. They were young lovers who wanted one another. They would make love that night and any night Heath remained in Strawberry. However, Heath was on a mission of revenge and Johnna was on a mission of redemption. Both agreed no commitments were made between the two. However, Johnna would forever be grateful to Heath for giving her a new lease on life.

The next day, Heath and Johnna headed towards the cabin to retrieve Rachel's list, the other three teens decided to hang out at Barker's General Store. They didn't want to go into the cabin and face the scene of death.

Despite the fact that Heath and Johnna were in the cabin filled with the sights and smells of death, Heath was still smiling as he listened to Johnna ramble on about what colors she was going to pick out for new curtains in the hotel and what type of table linens. Rachel had told the girl that she was in charge of the dining area. Rachel would take care of the hotel rooms decor and lobby.

"I want some more fancy dresses like this one." Johnna went on and on.

Heath looked up in surprise as Johnna spoke. He had never heard his mama's dresses called fancy. If anything, they were the cheapest dresses made. He had to admit that Johnna looked really beautiful in the plain cotton dress. His mama was good with a needle and thread.

"Mama has two or three more dresses in the trunk. You can have them. She had a real pretty one she wore to church." Heath always hated how his mama was made to sit at the back of the church when they went. Despite the treatment of her, his mama never missed a Sunday.

"She was buried in that dress. Rachel done a fine job with her and Hannah both. Jeb Lycans and Hank McCoy dug the graves for some jars of apple butter. Mr. Harlan made their boxes. He said you were the best livery boy he ever had. He would do that for you. He left town about a month before you got back. Rachel told me that all when she read me out the list." Johnna sat back on her haunches. "I reckon after what happened not many people feel safe here now."

"Do you feel safe, Johnna?" Heath tossed a couple of old quilts into a pile. "Here in Strawberry, I mean."

"I suppose except fearing Ma Red and Fred Garland. I don't reckon I have to fear him any more as he won't be touching me. But Ma Red, she won't like me not prostituting anymore." Johnna slid an old hat onto the top of her head.

"You don't have to work the hotel if you don't want." Heath told her as he watched her face sadden.

"I'd rather die than let another man touch me now that I have a way out." Johnna stated vehemently.

"Don't say that." Heath scolded. "Don't want another person dying I care about."

Johnna's heart flitted at Heath's words of caring. She wasn't sure that anyone ever cared if she lived or died before.

"Don't you ever think of wanting to die, Heath? I've thought of it a lot at times." Johnna admitted as she took the hat off to toss into the pile of things to discard.

"I've worked too hard to live to want to die." Heath stated matter of factly. "I like living. Folk might think my life sounds bad if you put it out there for people to know about. But I reckon I've had happy times that outweigh the bad. Mama made sure of that. I'd not blemish her memory by wanting to die."

"She sure was special. Your mama." Johnna smiled broadly. "I ain't never saw a prettier person or met someone sweeter. I've always wanted to be like her. You know that?"

Heath slipped his fingers to entwine with Johnna's. "You're more like her than you know. I bet you once your feeding people your food and smiling your smile, the people will fall in love with you."

Johnna only wanted one person to fall in love with her. But he was only fifteen and would soon be on a mission to revenge his mother's death. That was okay. She had his smile and his kindness to hold on to. That would be enough.

There was a comfortable silence for a while until Johnna spoke again. "Heath, what song was Miss Rachel talking about your mama singing to make them laugh?"

Heath smiled as he said the words. Johnna laughed as she listened. Then they both began to sing the silly song. The song seemed to drown out all sorrow as their teen voices carried a broken tune.

"Oh there is nothing like gin, when you feel all done in...and when I'm thirsty for beer, you better serve it to me, dear."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Seven**  
 **Strawberry, California**  
 **1866**

Libby watched from the doorway as Heath and Johnna searched through the old trunks belonging to the three women that once lived there. She noticed their laughter at such simple things. She could never find treasures in the things piled to keep verses things to be discarded. For instance, the hat Johhna threw away was a fancy hat if cleaned up and mended. A girl could look like she was going places in a hat like that. It was orange and feathery as well as sophisticated looking. Libby decided the two teens had no clue what was good to keep. She went back towards the general store to talk to Ward and Hank. She'd speak to Heath later when she could catch him without Johnna.

Heath held up a doll in front of him. It was worn and tattered. The sight of the doll caused his heart to ache for a few moments. He had been trained in the army not to cry. Emotions were allowed as long as they were hidden away so the enemy didn't see weakness. Heath had killed a lot of men with his ability with a rifle. His commanding officer had told Heath to feel as he had to but not to show it. War wasn't a time to dwell on emotions. It wasn't so difficult to hide away tears. Afterall, when he was a child, he had hid his tears when someone called him a name or beat him up. He would always cry on his mama's lap later. But he hid them well until he got to his mama. Now his emotions were hid for so long that he wasn't sure how to show them.

He started to toss the doll in the discard pile before he glanced over at Johnna. He wondered if she had ever held a doll. He doubted she ever owned one. "This was my mama's then mine when we were both babies. You want it?"

Johnna's eyes blinked as she glanced at the raggedy doll. "What would a grown woman want with a doll like that?"

Johnna craved to make the dolly her own. She never had a toy especially not a doll. She wanted to reach and touch it but was afraid she'd look childish. She bit her plump lips trying not to show anticipation for the silly item.

Heath shrugged slightly. "I sure can't keep it. Be a shame to throw it away though. Thought you may want it. But if you don't.."

Johnna snatched the doll from Heath's hands. She could see the sly grin on his face but she didn't care. She had her own doll now. "No use tossin' it out. I can put it on my bed in case some little girl, who happens into the hotel, needs one."

"That's what I figured." Heath continued to grin as he continued to search through the items in the trunk.

"Heath, I know your mama's gone to heaven. But what did you plan on doing when you saw her? I bet you had a lot of plans for your homecoming." Johnna continued to search through the trunk as she spoke.

"I was going to hug her real tight first thing." Heath admitted before he whispered. He knew Johnna could hear him. He also knew she'd understand. "Then I was going to cry like a baby while she held me tight. I wanted to just let her hold me while I cried."

Johnna did understand so she nodded. She wished the boy could cry with her. She supposed that was something Heath only reserved for his mama. No use dwelling on things as such. Johnna had learned that long ago. The teens continued their tasks of sifting through the trunks in silence.

Johnna pulled a leather pouch out of the trunk. "What's this letter, Heath? Think it may be important?"

"It was to Mama even if she couldn't read it." Heath stated as he took the letter from Johnna. He fingered the letter as he spoke."Mama told me it was from the man who sired me. She never used those words. She said it was from my daddy. Heck, he wasn't no daddy to me. But I never hurt her by saying so."

"You know who your daddy is?" Johnna asked in surprise.

"Yeah. Mama told me when I was ten. She never lied to me." Heath sat back while spreading out his long legs. "He is some rich rancher outside of Stockton. Name is Tom Barkley. He owned a mine here when he met my mama. She saved his life the way I understand it. The letter says something about him being married and having his own family. It sounded real sweet to mama. To me, it sounded like he was making it plain he had his family and she wasn't part of it."

"Did he know of you?" Johnna slid over to pull another item from the trunk.

"Mama said she told him when she was carrying me. Tom Barkley came back to sell his mine but not to deal with her. Mama said she felt it only right he should know. He gave her a choice. Give him the baby for his wife to claim as hers or leave his name out of it. He said he was building himself a future and no illegitimate child would damage that or damage the family he already had. He said he'd give her plenty to live on but he'd not have her blackmailing him for any in the future. Of course, mama never took a dime from him. She didn't want charity. She claimed I died at birth when he came back to check out if she made up her mind if he was taking me or not." Heath didn't seem to let that bother him. "Mama never told me that. I heard her and Rachel talking about it once. Don't mean anything anyway. There are a lot of children out there born like I was. Most men don't claim them and women have no choice but to raise them or give them up as abandons. Or kill them. I've heard tell some kill their own. Not really mad about it. That's just life. Besides, Mama said I was the best gift she ever got."

Heath threw the letter in the discard pile. Johnna pulled out an old locket from the trunk. She opened it to see a photo of Heath as a young toddler on Leah's lap. Johnna knew that Leah must have sold a lot of her baked goods and washed a lot of laundry to get the photo made. It must have been about the only thing Miss Leah had splurged on for herself. She handed it to Heath, who clasped it and put in his pocket. He knew the locket once belonged to his Mama's mother. It was one of his mama's prized possessions. Leah didn't wear it in fear of it being stolen or lost. The photo inside was even more of a treasure to his mama.

"Your mama was always honest. Reckon she meant every word of that, Heath. I sometimes dream about my daddy. I know he was no white man. That much is obvious. But I always imagine him being a house slave that ran away to freedom here in California. I think house slave because I am good at doing things like keeping a house and cooking. I figure I might get that from my daddy. Lord knows Ma Red isn't good at anything like that."

"I know one thing for sure." Heath pulled Johnna by the hand towards him. He kissed her deeply before releasing the breathless girl. "He had to give you your looks because I've seen Ma Red. No way did you get them from her. She's so ugly she could back a buzzard off of a gut wagon."

Johnna and Heath burst out laughing. Heath needed the reprieve from the reality of where life was going to take him. In a few days, he'd be heading after Roy Hutchins. He was going to make this Hutchins guy tell him every last name of the men who helped hurt and kill his mama and Hannah. Then he was going to kill each and every one of them. He didn't care if it was cold blood or by gunfight. They'd all be dead or he would be one.

After Heath helped Johnna carry the items kept to the hotel for Rachel to look through, he stood in the diner watching the activity going on. The cowboys were enjoying an early lunch before heading out. The cowboys enjoyed the food as well as the beauty of the waitress serving it. Johnna's smile lit up the room as Heath told her it would. The cowboys didn't know Johnna as a saloon girl. She had been with Heath since they arrived. The man that was sleeping on her bed that night was a local miner.

Since the cowboys knew of Heath's quickness and deadliness with a rifle, they chose to enjoy the girl's beauty but not make a play for her. After all, the blonde cowboy stood at the corner of the room cleaning his rifle. They all figured she belonged to Heath Thomson. The cowboys thought if the boy could kill his kin, he'd have no problem killing them if they stepped out of line.

The miner, who had fallen drunk in Johnna's bed, had other ideas. He knew her as the prostitute from the saloon. He and a friend were eating the hearty lunch when Johnna passed by with more drinks for some patrons. Clyde Becker wasn't itching for trouble but he figured the girl owed him a good time. Therefore, as Johnna went by his table, Clyde reached out and grabbed Johnna's backside.

Johnna yelped but before she could pull away, blood was squirting all over her apron. Clyde's eyes were wide as he looked down at his other hand pressed against the table. He stared up at Heath Thomson in shock.

"You cut off my finger. YOU plum took it off."

"If you touch her again, that won't be all I cut off." Heath said as he wiped his bloody knife on the table cloth. Then Heath went back to standing in the corner.

Those witnessing the incident noted that Heath was without a knife one minute and was with one the next. Not one of them could say where the blonde got it from. It wasn't a kitchen or dining knife but a hunting knife. They all knew the blonde was dangerous and quick even without a gun. They had seen him produce a knife out of nowhere before out on the range. They figured he had it hidden in a boot but they never could see Heath get it due to his quickness. The cowboys had even teased the teen for not being the same with a pistol. The boy had never used one and was slow at pulling it from a borrowed gun belt. Thus, Mr. Henry, let him keep a rifle on him rather than a pistol.

"Now, look what you done, Clyde." Johnna shook her head. "This was a clean apron. Now it isn't any good."

There was stifled laughing from those in the diner. Everyone went on eating after Johnna went to get another apron as Rachel changed the table cloth and offered the miners their meal for free. Clyde's friend laughed as he helped the tall lanky man wrap up his finger.

"It's only the tip, Clyde. You can still work. I guess ya won't be grabbin' at a female again around Leah's boy."

The afternoon went on without further event. Heath left the ladies to clean up while he headed to the livery to check on his Modoc. He had purchased her with his first paycheck. She wasn't a big horse but that was all he had. The horse of his dreams was the big bay that Mr. Henry had been letting Heath ride during the drive. Heath had even got to name the horse. He chose Charger because the horse didn't much like people and would charge at them when they neared him. The horse and Heath had an understanding though. Therefore, Heath was allowed on the bay's back.

Mr. Henry and his men were readying things to head out to the next town. Strawberry wasn't a place they wanted to be now or ever. He spotted Heath nearing the livery. They had placed their horses in the livery and corral for free. No one owned the place now. Heath seemed to know where all their needs were in the place. He told Mr. Henry that he worked there as a boy. Mr. Henry wondered if the kid realized he was still a boy.

"Heath, I need to talk to you." Mr. Henry called the boy over to him. "I usually give a good bonus to the men. Well, I suppose that you could use the bonus but I wanted to make you a deal. I want you to take Charger instead."

Heath held up his hands. "That's too much, Mr. Henry. I love the horse but he's way too much to give me."

"Heath, you saved my boy's life in that place." Heath knew Mr. Henry was talking about Carterson Prison. Mr. Henry never mentioned it by name. "Mike told me how you kept him from being flogged at times by claiming you did something he did. He said you helped him eat some things he never would have guessed could be used for food. Mike also told me how you help keep him alive after he hurt his leg. Doctors said he'd have died without your herbs and salves."

"Mr. Henry, I don't know why you're so grateful. He still lost his leg after all in the army hospital." Heath kicked a rock on the ground as he looked away from Mr. Henry.

"But he has his life. Mike doesn't even feel sorry for himself because of you. He's found his own way of helping on the ranch with encouragement from you. I always thought you'd be around awhile to thank properly. This is all I got, boy. Let this old man feel like he's gave back to someone that gave me so much." Mr. Henry held out his hand for Heath to shake. "If you ever figure out what needs to be done about your mama and all, look me up if you can. I'll have you a job waiting."

Heath shook Mr. Henry's hand and thanked him. "I know what needs to be done, Mr. Henry. Thanks for the offer though."

Mr. Henry nodded his understanding before turning to leave. Heath watched the man ride away with his crew following. Heath headed back towards the hotel. Johnna had promised him a good dinner of roast rabbit. He was sure looking forward to that meal.

Before he got to the hotel, Libby came running towards him. Ward and Hank were trailing behind her.

"Heath! Heath!" Libby yelled as she barrelled her way to him.

"Calm down." Heath took Libby by the shoulders. He shook her as she tried to catch her breath. "What's wrong? Is something wrong with Aunt Rachel or Cotton?"

Libby shook her head as tears poured down her cheeks. She was trying to speak but the crying was causing her to hiccup. Ward spoke up for her.

"Cotton is going into fits and Miss Rachel can't calm him." Ward stated as he fidgeted with his belt loops.

Heath nodded as he hurried towards the hotel. Hank grabbed Heath's arm. Heath turned around and scowled at Hank. Hank took his hand away from the blonde.

"There's more. That's all I am tryin' to say." Hank spoke quickly so he didn't have to face the ire of the teen boy.

"What?" Heath gritted his teeth.

"The reason Cotton is so upset is because Red came and got John. She was beating her pretty bad and pulled her out by the hair of her head. Red was airin' her lungs at Johnna the whole time." Hank swallowed as he continued. "I saw Pa over at the saloon. Red said Pa was going to help teach John a lesson about not obeying her parent."

Libby finally caught her breath. "Johnna was fighting her ma like mad, Heath. She didn't want to go there. Her ma was saying how Johnna was no good and didn't need to be so uppity because of some bastard took a liking to her."

Heath could tell Libby hated to say that word about him but he understood it was to make sure he knew what Red was doing to Johnna.

"Heath, Pa can be real mean to women." Hank admitted. "I've seen him about kill Ma and my sister before. I admit I'm afeared for her. I'm not sure Johnna will be alive by the time Pa gets through with her."

"She'll live or your Pa is a dead man." Heath warned as he pulled his pistol from the back of his pants.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 8**  
 **Strawberry, California**  
 **1866**

Heath stopped walking as he headed towards the hotel. Red had Johnna. According to Hank, Fred Garland was going to teach the girl a lesson. That meant two things, Johnna was going to be beat and forced into being with the older man.

Hank and Ward watched as Heath turned and ran towards the back of the saloon. He may have not been there to protect his Mama and Hannah but he'd be damned before he'd let another female be hurt in the same way.

Heath made into the back door of the saloon. It was easy to locate Johnna as she was screaming and begging for her mother to quit hitting her. When Heath arrived, Fred was standing over the girl looking down at her beaten and bruised body. The man started to unbuckle his pants when Heath's words stopped him in his tracks.

"Lay another hand on her and you're dead, old man." Heath had his pistol aimed at Fred Garland.

The fifteen year old was deadly serious. Fred could see the cold stare Heath aimed at him. It was more frightening than the pistol aimed in the same direction. However, that didn't stop Red from coming up behind Heath and smashing a nearby oil lamp over his head. Heath slumped in the floor as a gash on his head began to pour blood. His gun slid out from his hand and across the floor.

"Look there, girl." Red cackled as she slapped her daughter's face. "Seems the bastard does care. A lot of good that is going to do you by time you learn your lesson."

Johnna curled up into a fetal position and peered at her mother. "Please, Ma Red. I've got a job now. I can give you money. Ya don't have to do this. Don't let him touch me."

Red spit in her daughter's face at those words before she looked up at Fred. "She thinks she's too good for the likes of you now, Fred. Show the girl she ain't nothing but a nasty black child. Show her she's a nothing."

Fred pulled Johnna up by the hair of her head. He forced his lips on her lips. Johnna bit his lower lip causing Fred to yelp out. He jerked her head harshly as his dirty fingers gripped in her hair. The strangled cry from Johnna caused Heath to waken from his daze. He spotted his pistol lying just inches from Johnna. He tried to crawl to the pistol but his head was swimming from the hard blow.

A sudden sound of a shot echoed in the room. Fred's body jerked back as he stared down at the gaping hole in his chest. Fred then slid to floor. He cursed before taking his last breath.

Red screamed as she ran to the older man. The harlot felt for a pulse in the man's neck. She looked at the doorway where Cotton Caulfield stood wielding Heath's rifle. He was shaking from head to toe. The boy fell to his knees and let out a wail of agony.

Rachel had barely made it to the room to see her son shoot Fred Garland. She watched as Heath forced his body up towards Cotton, who was gripping the rifle in shaky hands.

"Give me the rifle, Cotton." Heath said in a soothing voice. "Come on now. Give it to me."

Cotton allowed Heath to take the rifle from his hands. Heath placed the rifle aside as he tried to steady himself. Cotton fell to his knees to the floor. He cried out like a wounded animal as he rocked himself back and forth. Rachel immediately fell beside her son and wrapped him in her arms.

"They'll hang my boy, Heath." Rachel cried as she clung to her son.

"Cotton, listen to me." Heath placed his hands on each side of Cotton's face. He forced the boy to look at him. "Remember the time you fell into that mine shaft when we was real little?"

Cotton wiped his hand across his face as he shook his head yes.

"I saved you then. Remember?"

Again, Cotton acknowledged Heath's words to him.

"What did I tell you then, Cotton?" Heath continued to hold the boy's face so that his eyes focused on Heath's eyes.

"You said we were best friends." Cotton hiccuped out.

"That's right. And what does that mean?" Heath ran his thumbs up and down the tear trails on Cottons' cheeks.

"Best friends have to trust each other." Cotton whispered as a small smile appeared on his face.

"That's right. You didn't do anything wrong here, Cotton. You saved Johnna's life. You have to trust me, okay?" Again Cotton nodded at Heath's words. "I want you to keep what you did a secret. Best friends keep secrets if need be. Right?"

"Yes." Cotton shook his head up and down quickly.

"That's right." Heath pulled Cotton into hug.

Red stood up and came towards them. "Secret! Do you think I'm going to let that half wit by with killing a man. Fred paid good for Johnna's time. Ain't against no law paying for her time. You bet I'm gonna tell everyone about that boy killing Fred. I'm going to make sure that addled brain dimwit hangs!"

Cotton covered his ears as Red screamed out her threats. He began to rock as he let out a sound similar to a wounded puppy. Rachel wanted to smack the irate prostitute but knew it would only further upset her son. Heath started to offer money for silence but his words halted when a gunshot went off and Red's body fell on top of him.

Heath pushed the dead woman's body from his own body before trying to figure out what happened. He saw Johnna clutching his pistol in her hand. The battered and bruised girl was trembling uncontrollably. Her fingers let go of the pistol, which made an ominous sound as it hit the wood floor.

"Take Cotton back to the hotel. Get him settled then make up Johnna a bath. I'll be there shortly." Heath ordered as he stood up from his stooping position.

Rachel nodded as she looked at Heath up and down. The boy was covered in Red's blood and chunks of her inners. His own head had a bloody gash causing a path of blood to ooze down his face. "I'll make you up a bath too, Heath."

Heath was surprised to see Rachel handling it all without drifting off somewhere. He supposed that mothers, who loved their children, would do anything to protect them. Rachel would face her demons for Cotton. If only for a short time, Rachel would be there for her son. Heath nodded as he watched Rachel pull Cotton out of the room. She clutched to her son as they walked away to let Heath handle Johnna.

Heath made his way towards Johnna after stepping over Red's dead body. With the tip of his boot, he pushed Fred's body away from Johnna as well.

"I killed Ma Red." Johnna's cheeks streaked with tears. The girl's body was bruised and battered as her skin began to turn purple and yellow in places. Her beautiful caramel skin was mottled with various colors.

"Shh." Heath wrapped one arm around Johnna. With the other, he placed the pistol back into the waistband of his pants. "I'd have killed them both if I had to. They'd be dead no matter what today. I'm going to take you home, Johnna."

"She would've never let me go, Heath. I can't go back to working this place. I want to be a cook and waitress at the hotel. I want a different life. You're the only man I ever want to touch me. There can't be wrong in that. She wasn't never going to let me go. She would have got Cotton hung. She wasn't never going to let me out of working here. I only want you now, Heath. " The girl repeated the same words over and over. "She was never going to let me go."

Johnna soon found herself being scooped up into Heath's arms. Her head laid on his shoulder as he once again stepped over dead bodies to carry her from the room.

The girl sobbed on Heath's shoulder. "I don't want to live like this anymore. God can't see wrong in that. Can He?"

"No, Johnna. Nothing wrong with that." Heath passed by Ward on his way through the back door. In a commanding voice, he ordered."Get my rifle."

Ward nodded as he ran to retrieve Heath's rifle. Some saloon girls and their customers came out of hiding long enough to check out the scene. Heath could hear the murmurs of how Heath Thomson had killed Red and Fred blonde cowboy shook his head at the words. He couldn't help to think of the situation. He hadn't even started on his quest for revenge and was already credited with four deaths. At least Cotton or Johnna wouldn't have to deal with the consequences of it all. As far as Martha's and Matt's killings, he didn't feel a bit guilty for killing those trying to kill him. It may have been the code of a cowboy to never kill a woman but Martha Simmons wasn't a woman. She was an evil vile creature just as Ma Red was. If any two females on this earth deserved to die, those two did. Same for Matt and Fred.

Hank Garland came rushing up towards Ward. Ward followed behind carrying Heath's rifle. Ward warned Hank not to go into the back of the saloon. Hank didn't listen. He had found his pa dead beside of the body of Johnna's mother.

He stared down at the bloody scene. Hank wasn't sure what to think. Here was his pa dead. Yet, Hank found it hard to care. He turned and ran up to Heath.

"You killed my pa." Hank didn't touch Heath as he had earlier.

Although Heath had his arms full due to carrying Johnna, Hank figured the boy was still deadly to be around.

"Not right now, Hank." Heath kept walking towards the hotel.

Hank stopped as he watched Heath continue to walk away from him. He looked at Ward. "He killed my pa."

"I reckon so." Ward didn't know how Hank was going to react. He wondered if Hank would try to seek revenge on Heath. Seemed to him that there was enough wrath going on inside of Heath. Hank didn't need to add more wrath to this desolate town. "Ya ain't gonna try to make Heath pay are you?"

"Naw. I was wondering if he'd care to let my ma and my sister, Nora, move into His mama's old cabin." Hank answered as he looked at Ward. "Probably should throw Heath a thank you party. Pa was a mean spirited critter. You know Ma and Nora haven't been to town for years because Pa liked hitting them? Ma didn't want to give him no excuse to get mad."

Ward figured some of the bruises and split lips that Hank had wore at times were due to Hank's Pa too. Hank was a big boy but Fred was huge. Maybe Heath did all the Garlands a favor by killing Fred. However, Ward knew once the sheriff arrived in Strawberry, Heath hadn't done himself any favors adding more killings under his belt.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Nine**  
 **Strawberry, California**  
 **1866**

Rachel touched Heath's shoulder as he walked into Johnna's new room. They had spent all evening getting it fixed up for her. Cotton loved being helpful so he happily had carried down box after box to the basement. It was during one of those many trips that Cotton saw Red dragging Johnna out of the hotel. The poor girl was begging as her own mother threatened her.

Cotton had curled himself up in the corner of Johnna's room. Rachel had heard Johnna screaming for help. At first, the moment had frightened her. Due to the memories that tortured her, Rachel froze. Then she thought of Cotton. She had found her son frightened in a corner. When she had calmed him enough, Rachel had went to get help for Johnna. She didn't notice Cotton running out of the hotel with Heath's rifle. The boy had spotted the rifle behind the counter of the hotel.

Heath looked at Rachel as he laid his precious treasure on the bed. "She's badly battered, Aunt Rachel."

Rachel sighed as she noticed the poor girl's torn dress and bloodied body. Her own fears doubled as memories bombarded her. Rachel wanted to drift off into the land of honeysuckles and gospel hymns. However, this child before her needed someone with a clear head. She had already taken care of her son. Now it was time to take care of this girl. A girl, who loved Heath as much as anyone could, needed Rachel sane for the moment. Rachel knew the girl loved Heath. She had seen the way the girl stared at the boy.

The girl, Liberty Keene, she stared at Heath too. That stare was with a sinful lust of youth. Johnna looked at Heath differently. Sure, there was a lustful desire in the girl's eyes but that paled in comparison to the look of adoration and love held by the former saloon girl.

Rachel knew Heath would make an unnaturally good looking man someday. He had the perfect mixture of his mama and Tom Barkley. There was enough of Tom Barkley in the boy that Tom Barkley could never deny Heath being his son. Rachel remembered the pride that Tom Barkley possessed. If Leah had allowed him to see Heath years ago, Tom Barkley would have taken his son. The boy looked too much like Tom for the man to ever give him up. Tom Barkley had made it plain that he wanted the baby to be raised by his wife as their own. He had threatened Leah to leave him be or give him the child when it was born. However, Leah knew if Tom Barkley ever laid eyes on Heath, he'd take him from her. Thus, Leah told Tom that the child had died at birth.

There was also part of Leah's features in the boy that caused the boy's looks to go beyond the handsome features that Tom Barkley possessed. Heath could use that charm if need be in life. Rachel was sure he would have to at times. Especially with the life he was about to take on as the wrath settled over him.

"I know you've seen her in her entirety, Heath. I'm not a fool or blind of you two. It ain't none of my concern what you both do in private. But the girl needs some dignity now. Go get yourself bathed and in clean clothes. Bandage your head too if you can. If you need my help, let me know. I'll take care of this sweet girl for you." Rachel patted Heath's arm.

Heath nodded in agreement as he left Rachel to clean up Johnna. He thought it best Johnna not see her mother's blood all over him anyway. He stopped to check on Cotton, who was sleeping soundly in his bed. He noticed an empty packet of headache powders on the small end table by the bed. Rachel made Cotton drink down a glass infused with the stuff.

Heath quickly bathed and changed clothes. He would've liked to soak but wanted to help Rachel if he was needed. The gash on his head was cleaned and bandaged by him as well. He'd have Rachel fix him up better in the morning. Johnna was priority for now. He made his way up the stairs. He knocked on Johnna's bedroom door before poking his head into her room.

"Come on in, Heath." Rachel looked up from beside of a metal tub. Johnna was inside the tub immersed in sudsy water. "I used some of the honeysuckle soap I found in the hotel supplies. I know you like that smell."

Heath walked over to the side of the tub. He dropped to his knees beside of it. Johnna glanced at Heath as tears formed in her eyes.

"I killed my own ma, Heath."

"She was gonna kill you if you didn't, Johnna. If not today, someday. I think maybe today though." Heath raked his hand down her cheek. "Want me to leave Rachel to finish?"

"Please stay. I'm afraid, Heath. Make me not afraid." Johnna gripped Heath's hand.

Rachel nodded her understanding when Heath looked up at her. "I put one of Martha's clean cotton gowns out for her. Figure those nice garments can be used by Johnna and me now. They're too big on us both but I mended a few gowns to fit Johnna and me. There is a large towel on her bed too. Help her wash the mess from her hair."

Rachel left leaving Johnna in Heath's care. At least the girl had kept her dignity by letting Rachel strip her of the bloody clothing. Heath could take over now. She was sure the boy would be a gentleman when the little lady needed him to be. Maybe she could see if there was enough money to buy some cotton or linen material from Barker's General Store. Leah had taught her enough to know how to sew those dresses Johnna loved so well.

Heath washed Johnna's hair gently. He cupped his hands rinsing out the suds. Johnna relaxed to his touch as she tried to abate her tears.

"Your mama used to get the tangles from my hair. Did you know that?" Johnna opened one eye to peer at Heath.

"I remember she did." Heath stated as he continued his cleansing of Johnna's curly locks.

Johnna smiled coyly at Heath's words. She remembered when she was twelve being over at his house while his mama untangled her hair. Johnna had went there after a beating brought on by her mother's drunken spell. She was sent to purchase some baked goods for the girls at the saloon. Johnna hadn't been sold to too many men at that point. Maybe two or three in a year's time. Most wanted women and not little girls. But there were a few strange and wicked men that wanted the child. Her shame was still evident when she walked into the small cabin that day.

Heath was coming in from working at the livery when he spotted Johnna sitting at his mother's feet while his mother combed out Johnna's hair. The boy blushed red from head to toe causing Leah to roll her eyes at her ten year old son. For the first time in Johnna's life, she thought a male was cute and she actually wanted to spend time with him as friends. It had taken some time for Heath not to be shy around the beautiful girl. Johnna knew she wasn't considered a good girl. She had been used by men already. However, that was never even mentioned. It was like she was in another world around Leah and Heath. Their friendship meant the world to her. More than Leah or Heath could imagine.

"More than I like to think about Ma Red would get mad at me for no reason. She was real bad if she got liquor in her. She would pull me by the hair of my head until it was a mess of knots. Your mama would sit me down in front of her and take her silver brush through my hair. She never pulled it but took her time with it. I remember it started when I was no more than six or seven. But you were around four or five then. After awhile you started working and you still didn't see me until we both got older. By that time I was…." Johnna inhaled as tears hitched in her throat. "I was used goods. Ruined by other men. I was a nobody."

Heath slid his fingers through Johnna's hair being careful to take out any tangles along the way. "My mama wouldn't trouble herself with a nobody, Johnna. Don't discount my mama that way. She saw your worth. Unless you think my mama made up me being worth something too. Remember she said I was a blessing."

"Oh no, Heath! You're mama was always honest." Johnna took his hand in hers. "Guessin' we are both worth something or your mama wouldn't have thought so. Huh?"

Heath nodded then went to retrieve the large towel from the bed. He turned his head as Johnna stepped out of the tub and into the towel. Then Heath turned back and picked her up in his arms. He placed her gently on the bed. Heath dried Johnna then placed the cotton gown over her head. The whole time, Heath kept his eyes trained on Johnna's eyes and not her body.

"Heath, you seen me before." Johnna slid her hand over her shoulder. "Are you not wantin' to look at me because of me being bruised or am I no longer pretty to you?"

Heath chuckled as he shook his head at the girl. "Not at all, Johnna. You're the prettiest thing I ever laid eyes on. Rachel said you needed your dignity tonight. I was trying to give it to you."

"I ain't never felt undignified with you, Heath. I guess any other I feel shame. But with you, I like the way you make me feel beautiful and cared for. Will you stay with me? " Johnna blushed.

Johnna's skin reddened into an innocent blush. Heath blushed as well adding to the moment of awkward innocence. Johnna curled up on her bed with Heath curled behind her. Johnna pulled the doll from her pillow and wrapped her arms tightly around it. Tonight they would not touch in adult ways but would allow a moment of innocence to comfort them both.

Tomorrow, Heath would leave the moment of innocence to exercise his wrath.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Ten  
**

 **Strawberry, California**

 **1866**

Before the sun had risen in the Eastern sky, Heath had made his way to the small graves beside of the place he once called home. In two days, the place would be a home to Hank's sister and mother. Heath had no problem letting them live there as long as the graves were left in peace.

Hank had met Heath the night before in the hotel lobby to ask the favor of him. Heath left Johnna briefly to see what Hank wanted. It was a simple request followed up by a simple answer of yes. After all, Heath had killed the father/husband of the family. At least that is what most thought even if it were not the truth.

Rachel had taken that opportunity to treat Heath's head wound. He needed only three stitches as the gash was small but deeper than Heath realized. Never having the money for a doctor, Hannah had always been their healer. She had vast knowledge of herbs and plants to help in medicinal purposes. Hannah was the daughter of a slave woman who took care of wounds of other slaves. Her mother had taught her at an early age about treating sickness from lashes on the back to running a fever. In turn, Hannah had taught Leah, Rachel, and Heath about her knowledge. Therefore, Rachel knew how to stitch Heath up and add some paste to keep down infection. She had mixed him up some of the paste for him to take with him as well as clean bandages.

Knowing he'd need a fast horse, Heath decided to take Charger and leave his little Modoc mare behind. He had asked Cotton to take care of her for him. Heath knew the boy would do his best with the horse. She'd be one spoiled horse by the time Cotton had her a week's time. Heath smiled at that thought. The horse had been loyal to him. Now she'd make a good horse for the boy. Heath acknowledged that Cotton was three years older than he was. Having the mental capacity of a six year old caused Heath to always think as Cotton as a younger sibling.

Heath knew he was leaving Strawberry at first light to head towards Modesto. He hoped he'd find answers to where the men went from that town. He hoped even more that they were in Modesto. It would make his days a lot easier if they were.

Heath never cried as he plucked the graves of the small weeds that grew on them. Rachel kept the graves very well kept. He figured she would continue to do so. The boy never spoke to either packed mounds of dirt. Heath believed in his mama's teachings. Therefore, he knew in his heart his mama wasn't there and neither was Hannah. It felt good to be there in silence despite the fact he felt both were in heaven. Heath longed to hold his mama again. He wished he'd never left for that war as a boy. There was no changing that. Besides, according to Rachel, his army pay did get them through some rough times.

A slight breeze kissed Heath's face. Heath smiled lightly when he smelled the scent of honeysuckle. He knew it wasn't the honeysuckle vines on the cabin. He knew it was Johnna checking on him. Her skin still lingered with the scent from Rachel's adding the soap to Johnna's bath. Heath glanced over his shoulder at the girl.

Silently, she walked up to him. She offered her hand to him. Taking her hand, Heath knew that words weren't going to be spoken between them. Johnna led him to the old wooden swing on the back porch. There, the two teens said goodbye with actions of unbridled passion.

When day broke, Heath had taken a small amount of money from the hotel safe. He left most of the money for Rachel and Johnna to get some new items for the hotel as well as keep them for a while. Rachel helped pack him some dry tack, biscuits, and a jar of blackberry jam. He had purchased bullets for both his pistol and his rifle. However, he didn't want to splurge on a new holster at Barker's General Store. He'd have to try and get one later.

He wasn't that fast with a gun anyway. He'd have to practice to get better. He had heard from a few local miners that Roy Hutchins and a few of the other men had goofed off with their guns with target practice and so on. According to a those miners, Roy Hutchins was a very quick draw and shot straight. Some of the others were good as well but not so much as the leader was.

Heath's provisions would last a good week in an emergency. He could hunt with his rifle and the gun would be used for killing the men in his wake of wrath. Heath had been taught to play poker by one of the prisoners in Carterson. The older man had hidden his cards well so he got to keep them. Heath wasn't as good as the old timer but he was rather good with the cards. He figured he was good enough to win some earnings to help him on his way towards vengeance.

Heath started to mount Charger but halted when he spotted Cotton riding up on Heath's Modoc mare. He glanced confused at Rachel.

"Aunt Rachel, he can't go with me." Heath could see the look on Rachel's face. That was exactly what she was planning.

"Listen to me, Heath. Cotton is as honest as they come. When the sheriff comes to town and starts questioning him, he will tell who shot who. My boy will hang." Rachel felt tears brimming her eyes. "I know my mind drifts now, Heath. Sometimes I feel like I'm wading in a pool of mud that will pull me down to never get back up again. I don't know if I can keep from drowning in it. If my boy hangs, I'll have no reason to want to come back. He's my world, Heath. Just like you were your mama's. I'm askin' you to look after him where I can't."

"Aunt Rachel, I'm hunting down men. It ain't going to be a pretty life I'm heading toward." Heath watched as Cotton fidgeted in his saddle.

"I know. I know." Rachel breathed out slowly. "Cotton will have a life though. If he gets killed out there, it is better than hanging here. Besides, he knows what they look like. He can help you."

"Are you going to do everything I tell you, Cotton?" Heath couldn't believe he was even thinking about taking the boy along.

"I sure will, Heath." Cotton's mouth broke out into a large grin. "You're my best friend. We're going on an adventure like in the story books ma reads me. She done tole me."

Heath closed his eyes to keep from causing the boy to think otherwise. Adventure was a nice way of putting it. "That's right, Cotton. We're going to slay some evil dragons."

"Thank you, Heath." Rachel embraced Heath before dashing away into the hotel. She had already hugged and kissed her son more times than able to count.

Heath swung up on Charger. He knew that Johnna was inside the hotel peering out. He wouldn't say goodbye to her. They had already said their goodbyes earlier.

As the blonde cowboy and white haired boy rode out of Strawberry, some town people were staring out at them. Whispers and murmurs could be heard of the bastard and the half wit leaving town.

Cotton leaned over to whisper to Heath. "Heath, am I a bastard?"

"No." Heath arched his eyebrow as he stared at the white haired boy.

"I must be the half wit." Cotton smiled widely.

Heath chuckled lightly as he kicked Charger into a quicker gallop.

"Heath?" The boy kept up a steady pace with Heath's horse on his own mount.

"Yeah, Cotton." Heath couldn't help but be happy the boy was with him. It would lighten the load of the journey ahead. Or add to it.

"You're the bastard. What's a bastard?" Cotton asked curiously as the town of Strawberry loomed in the background.

"A mighty knight." Heath winked as he looked at Cotton for a reaction.

"What's a half wit?" Cotton shook his head in agreement to what a bastard was. Heath was like a mighty knight to him.

"The knight's squire." Heath bit his lip to keep from chuckling.

Cotton's eyes lit up with glee. He sighed out happily as he kept his mare going at an equal pace to Charger. "I'll be the best squire ever! Do you think I'll be a knight someday?"

Heath glanced at the boy. He was glad Cotton had no clue of the reality in the situation. He'd hate the boy to be afraid of going along. But Rachel was right. Coton was as honest as they came. He'd end up telling he killed Fred Garland and Johnna killed Ma Red. Both Cotton and Johnna would hang or be put in prison. Johnna may could survive prison but it would be a death sentence for the innocent Cotton.

Cotton loved the stories of kingdoms and knights slaying dragons. Heath remembered his Aunt Rachel reading the books to both of them at bedtime when they were small boys. Therefore, Heath had used that to keep Cotton from hurting at the scornful words. The boy didn't deserve to be treated badly. He was the sweetest person, besides his own Mama, who Heath had ever known.

"Boy howdy, Heath. This is some adventure."

"It sure is, Cotton. It sure is."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Eleven  
**  
 **60 Miles outside of Modesto**  
 **1866**

Heath had decided to make camp. He knew to be cautious of other travelers. It wasn't beyond a man to kill you for your horse or something as little as a can of beans. Therefore, he made camp where he could hear if anyone entered unannounced. It was known to all in the west to announce coming into a man's camp or expect to be killed.

As Heath knew he would, Cotton was taking excellent care of the Modoc mare. He had even named it Gal. Heath chuckled as Gal slowly was becoming Cotton's best friend. Heath wondered if he could be that easily replaced with humans as he was with the horse.

Scratching Charger behind the ear, Heath thought Charger would be a tougher one to take loyalty from himself. Heath had already figured out this horse was extremely loyal to him and him alone. He had nipped at Cotton when the boy got too near. He threw off any other cowboy, who tried to ride him. Charger was his and Heath liked it that way. He needed something that was his alone. It made him feel a little more important than he realized he was.

"Eat this, Cotton." Heath handed the boy a chunk of fried up squirrel with a side of beans. "Best eat up what you can and get some rest tonight. I plan on heading all the way in tomorrow early."

"Alright." Cotton took the tin plate offered him as he settled against an old tree stump. "It smells good."

"You'd eat anything, Cotton." Heath chuckled knowing the boy was the thinnest person he knew for someone that tucked away the food like Cotton did.

Cotton grinned before stuffing his mouth. He moaned out his appreciation of the fried meat causing Heath to chuckle more. They ate in relative silence. Heath wasn't much of a talker and had never been. Cotton knew this so he kept quiet most of the time when with Heath. After eating, Cotton made himself busy playing with some sticks on the ground as Heath cleaned the dishes.

Heath made Cotton help him set up the bed rolls as well as showed him how to keep the fire going longer. He knew Cotton needed to learn a few things about surviving. Rachel had coddled the boy. Heath understood her doing so. Hannah and his own mama had spoiled Cotton as well. Heath knew the boy needed to help out in the smaller things if he were going to survive out in the wild.

After laying down to sleep, Heath heard a branch crack. He listened longer to make sure it wasn't a wild animal. Again, another twig snapped. It was something large or someone. Heath quietly woke up Cotton. The boy always fell asleep quickly and soundly. Cotton also woke up as easily as he fell asleep.

Heath placed his finger to his lip to alert Cotton to be quiet. He pulled the boy over to a larger rock, which would hide him from any intruder. He handed Cotton the rifle.

"Stay here. Don't make a sound." Heath whispered as he turned to leave.

Heath stood behind a larger tree as he awaited for the camp intruder. Immediately, when a large man stepped from the wooded area, Heath was on him with his knife held to the man's throat.

"State your business." Heath's voice was low and menacing.

"It's me, Hank." The larger boy held up his hands.

"Dang it, Hank." Heath would have cursed but tried not to do so in front of Cotton. "You about got yourself killed. Don't you know you're supposed to announce yourself before entering a man's camp?"

Heath returned his knife to his hidden pocket in his boot. "You can come out, Cotton."

"Sorry, Heath. I'm a miner. Never had to leave Strawberry before." Hank rubbed his neck where the cold metal of Heath's knife once lay.

Heath motioned for Cotton to return to his bed roll as he and Hank settled around the fire. "What are you doing here, Hank?"

"My Ma said I should help you out with finding those men. She said it wasn't right accepting charity without finding a way to pay back." Hank stated as he accepted the cup of coffee Heath offered him.

"Ain't she mad at your pa being killed?" Heath glanced up from his own cup of coffee.

"Naw. Pa rarely came back to the old shack he kept her and my sister in. When he did, it was more misery than when he was gone. She knew he stayed around the saloon when not down in the mines. If it weren't for my bringing them food from my pay, they'd starved. Pa took a lot of my money too. She said she reckoned he deserved what he had coming to him. After she saw the bruising on Johnna, she was sure of it." Hank took a sip of his coffee. "This coffee could peel the skin off a lizard."

"I never was the best coffee maker." Heath agreed. "You don't owe me for the house, Hank. It was going to rot down if no one took it. Besides, it ain't much."

"It is a lot to my mama. The shack she was in was falling down around her. Pa never took care of it and I wasn't very handy with a hammer and nail. I tried but sometimes I made things worse. I want out of that dying place anyhow, Heath." Hank touched his waist, where his dad's gun belt and pistol hung. "I got my own gun and horse. Mr. Barker gave me his horse for Pa's mule. Said it was a good trade as he needed to pack things more than he needed a horse. He ain't as good as yours or Cotton's. But I think he'll do."

Heath nodded towards a sleeping Cotton.. "You have to do as I say, Hank. I ain't much for company but there may be times I need some things taken care of. You're lucky you got a good trade considering your horse is a she not a he."

Hank understood Heath's message. Cotton may need him if Heath were unable to help him. He also got a kick out of Heath's stating the horse was a mare. Indeed, it was.

"Fair enough." Hank breathed out in relief. "Ma and your Aunt Rachel packed more stuff in my saddle bags. Johnna sent you some of her cake. She's a mighty fine cook."

"That she is." Heath agreed as he dumped out his coffee. "I'm heading to bed. I suggest you do as well if you plan on keeping up with me on that old nag of yours."

Soon the three boys were sleeping. Heath had to get used to the muffled sounds of Hank's loud snores. He was sure the man's snoring would drown out the sound of an approaching train. Due to that fact, Heath tried to stay alert in case anyone else, who wasn't so friendly, tried to intrude on camp. The problem was that the fifteen year old was still only a boy, who had not had any sleep with all the events the past days. Heath fell into a fitful sleep.

Unfortunately, Heath woke to hearing a curse coming from Hank rather than a snoring sound. Heath's eyes adjusted to the dark. He lay very still trying to observe the situation. A man towered over Hank with a gun pressed against Hank's temple. Another man was standing holding a rifle on a frightened Cotton.

Heath assumed the men thought taking out the bigger of the two as the threat. They figured Heath was a boy following along with his friends or family. They messed up on that assumption.

"This one here ain't quite right in the head, Manny. His cart is short a few apples." The one holding the rifle on Cotton stated. "He's crying like a baby."

"Don't matter no how. You said we planned to kill 'em and that runt sleeping over there. They got a couple of good horses we could sell." Manny answered as he spit tobacco juice near the fire.

At that Cotton began to sob harder as he rocked his body back and forth. He began to sing the hymn his mother sung when she wanted to escape reality.

"Kill that one off now, Manny. Don't want to hear this one's wailin'. So I'll take care of him." Henry ordered as he cocked his own gun.

At those words, Heath reacted. He knew he wasn't quick with a gun like he needed to be. He'd have to use his knife. He hoped that would get the attention of Henry long enough for Cotton to escape.

Heath's knife sailed through the air in a silent attack. Before Manny could pull the trigger, his hand was grasping the hilt of the knife, which was embedded deep within his chest. Heath had rolled to get up to his knees. He then pulled the pistol from under his bedroll and fired at the unsuspecting Henry. It was obvious Henry hadn't yet registered what was happening. The man hadn't even placed his finger on the trigger to kill Cotton quiet yet. Heath didn't want to chance it so he shot the man.

Cotton had scurried back away from the dead body of Henry. The bullet was placed in the man's upper forehead. The bullet had practically tore off the top of Henry's head at the close proximity of Heath.

Manny was gasping trying to pull the knife from his chest. His eyes were wide with fright as he looked death in the face. Hank was shoved the man over as he got up from his lying position.

"Ya saved me, Heath." Hank said as he watched Manny struggle to breath. "I think this one ain't gonna make it either."

Hank knew the other one had no chance as he saw the shot tear off the upper part of Henry's  
head. He glanced back at Manny, who was facing his own death slowly.

"Didn't reckon on the boy being the threat." Manny whispered. "Pa told me that someday hanging with Henry would get me killed. Reckon it did."

At those words, Manny closed his eyes as he accepted his fate. Heath pulled his knife from the dead man's chest. Heath didn't bother looking over the two men he had just killed. He was busy cursing himself for being less alert and for not being fast with a pistol. Would have saved the man from suffering if he had used a pistol.

"Cotton, quit your crying." Heath ordered in a monotone voice. It wasn't laced with anger or pity. Instead the words were stated matter of fact. "If you're going to be riding with me as my squire, you got to be used to slaying dragons that try to get in our lair."

"Yes, sir, Heath." Cotton wiped his snotty nose and wet cheeks on the back of his sleeve. "I'll go check on our horses."

"You do that after you change. Don't want to spook them by the smell of the man's blood on you." Heath poured himself a cup of strong coffee from the pot that sat near the fire. "Reckon we will head towards Modesto a little earlier than thought."

Hank had never seen a man killed that close to him before. He had seen Martha and Matt die but this was different. This man was killed because he was going to kill him. This man was killed by Heath to protect him. Hank couldn't understand why Heath would care. He'd treated the boy badly for as long as he remembered yet Heath had saved him first. Hank knew that Heath could've killed Henry first then killed Manny. Sure, Hank would be dead but the outcome of it would've been the same with the two thieves. Hank knew that his snoring had kept Heath from hearing the approach. Therefore, Hank surmised his death wouldn't have been a huge deal to Heath. Yet, he saved him.

"Is there anything I can do, Boss?" Hank walked over to stand by Heath near the fire.

"Get on a clean shirt. That blood will get us looked at suspiciously in Modesto. Reckon the one called Henry is about your size. He may be a slight bigger. See if he has a change of clothes in his saddle bag. Then pick the best of their two horses. Leave your nag behind. Need a faster horse than what you traded for." Heath sipped at his warm coffee.

"Boss, I reckon she was better than an old mule though." Hank grinned baring his rotted teeth.

"I reckon she was. You just keep trading up, Hank." Heath added as he stood.

"Should we bury them?" Hank raked his boot against the dry dirt.

"No. Let the dead bury the dead." Heath stated as he leaned over the one called Manny. "This is a good gun belt. Don't figure Manny will be needing it. I got to get better with a gun. Can't do that without a gun belt. As Mama always says, God does provide."

Cotton and Hank glanced at each other at Heath's though Cotton was slightly slow in the mind, Hank and he had the same thought. Didn't make sense to them how the boy could think God had anything to do with this.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Twelve**  
 **Stockton/Strawberry-1866**

Fred Madden stood in the doorway of the Barkley house. Tom Barkley invited him in with his usual friendly greeting.

"What brings you here, Fred?" Tom asked as he offered Fred a seat in the chair adjacent his own.

"Nothing major. Some old timer from Strawberry said there's been trouble brewing there. Was wondering if you could spare a man or two to ride with me to Strawberry? According to this man named Jeb Lycans, there is a young man taking out vigilante justice on the town for his mother and aunt dying. That's not so unusual as you know but the man killed two already. According to Mr. Lycans, the two hadn't even been involved in this this man's mother's and aunt's death. Jeb Lycans was sent to fetch a sheriff and figured the sheriff from Pinecrest wouldn't come with having no deputies and all." Sheriff Madden smiled kindly at Victoria when she offered him a glass of lemonade. Then as her usual actions, she left the men to discuss matters without her.

"I know the territory. I heard it was a dying town." Tom took a drink of his own lemonade. At the moment, he'd preferred whiskey. After all, Strawberry was a place he'd rather forget.

"Heard the same. That's why there is no law. I don't figure on much trouble getting this man but I want to take along a man or two just in case. Jeb Lycans said the man just got back from the war to find his mother and aunt dead. He's not sure why the man killed his own aunt and uncle. But it sounds like this man may have snapped. Thought I'd better take along a couple of men to make sure I have no trouble. I have a deputy taking over here in town. But I'd rather see to this myself as it sounds like a double murder." Fred drank down the lemonade quickly. It had been a long and dry ride out to the Barkley ranch.

"Sure. I can spare a couple of men. Nick can tag along too. It is too dry for branding and driving the cattle anywhere. We already moved them to water. Give Nick something to do besides complain." Tom winked as the subject of the conversation walked into the room.

"I'd complain anyway." Nick stated loudly as he headed for the whiskey decanter.

"Not time yet, Nick. You know your mother doesn't allow that stuff until after six. Get some lemonade." Tom had to chuckle at his son's grunt.

"Mother and her rules." Nick turned to grimace at the pitcher of lemonade on the small table. "What am I going to complain about anyway?"

"Sheriff is looking to go to Strawberry to check on a man for murder. He wants to take a few men. I figure you can go along with a couple of hands. You can pick them." Tom settled deeper into his chair. "Give you something to keep you busy."

"Sure I'll go. I'll take Rakes and Combs. They're itching to get something going. Most of the things needed around here are fence mending and other maintenance. When we leaving?"Nick would be glad to get away from the ranch a few days. It seems the local pastor had been preaching on the evils of strong drink. Victoria was making the men in the family wait until a later hour to drink. This way Nick could at least get in some good whiskey without her knowing.

"I'd like to leave first light. The old timer took almost five days to get here. I'm not sure what we're in for. The old man wasn't very clear on the events. His words were and I quote. The bastard came back to town. Got real mad and killed his aunt and uncle after finding his mama and the old black woman's grave. He claimed ole Hannah as his aunt. He's crazy. Not one cared if they all died but I was sent any way to bring in a sheriff. The boy plumb shut that crazy aunt up with a bullet. Killed his uncle for looking at him wrong after." Sheriff Madden shrugged. "That's all he said and then he said he had to get going. Left without anymore information except to say if I had time to go get the killer in Strawberry, the town would appreciate it."

"We'll meet you outside your office first light." Nick poured a touch of whiskey in his lemonade. Tom held out his glass for Nick to sneak him a drink as well.

Over the next few days, the trip to Strawberry was made without incident. It took three days as it normally would. They had camped each night not being in a hurry. It didn't seem that it was a pressing matter due to Jeb Lycan's nonchalant attitude towards the killings.

After they arrived in Strawberry, all that changed.

"So you're telling me that this man, Heath Thomson, has killed four people before leaving town?" The sheriff stood staring in disbelief as the bartender informed him of the whereabouts of Heath Thomson.

"That's right. Three in cold blood. His aunt was taking a butcher knife to him or planning to. That's what one of the men told me they saw. But ole Heath killed his uncle for calling him a bastard or something. Not sure as I didn't see it." The chunky bartender wiped down the counters of the bar. "The folk in town are better off without those two. But I sure wish Red hadn't been killed by him. She was one of my best girls. Fred Garland wasn't much but he always paid his tab." The man shook his head. "Gonna miss those two."

"No one tried to stop this man from leaving town after he killed four people?" Nick was standing beside of Sheriff Madden. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Listen, Mister. WE have no law around here. That's why Jeb came for your sheriff. The boy is plain mean like. He don't mix words and he kills without blinkin'. He changed in the war or somethin'. Heard he was held prisoner at Carterson Prison. Maybe that place damaged him in the head. All I know is that he killed one of my saloon girls and my best customer, Fred Garland. If you all want to know more, go ask at the hotel. Heath owns the place and put his girl and his aunt in charge. They may know where he's headed. But they likely won't tell you. They love that boy." The bartender threw down his old dust rag. "Don't judge us here. We try to keep to ourselves. At least we sent for a sheriff this time."

Sheriff Madden thanked the bartender for his time then headed out the door. He could see the irritation written on Nick's face. He felt the same way. They expected this to be an easy trip. Find out about a man, who killed two people. Take the prisoner back to Stockton to stand trial. Simple as that. Instead, they found out the man had left town after killing four people. Three in cold blood.

Rakes spoke up after listening to the mumbles of Nick about the incompetency of the town of Strawberry. "What do you suppose the bartender meant by at least they sent for the sheriff this time? Reckon what happened last time that they didn't send for a sheriff?"

The sheriff and Nick stopped in their tracks. They never thought of the words the bartender used. Nick raised his eyebrow as he looked questioningly at the sheriff.

"I'll find out. Let's get to the hotel for now. Combs, you head towards the old telegraph office. See if it is still working. If so, let us know. We'll get a couple of rooms at the hotel as well as a meal. Looks like we're here for the night. Maybe see what information we can get from the people the bartender suggested." The sheriff sighed. "This isn't going to be as easy as I thought."

Nick and the other two men were pleasantly surprised by the looks of the hotel. It was obvious this was the only place in town that looked well kept. There was new paint on the wall as well as new curtains hanging.

The woman behind the front counter greeted them kindly as well. "Welcome to Strawberry. My name is Mrs. Rachel Caulfield. May I get you a room or ready a table for you a meal?"

"Both, Mrs. Caulfield." Fred showed his badge to the kindly looking female. She was rather nice looking although a bit on the thin side. "We're here for information about Heath Thomson."

Rachel bit her lip before she began to hum the familiar hymn. She walked away from the three men, who stood confused at her action. They started to follow her but was cut short by the voice of another female.

"Miss Rachel will be seeing to your rooms. How many were you wanting?" An older woman stepped behind the counter and opened the register book. "Sign or put your x for each room."

"Who might you be?" Nick turned the book to sign his name on one line while the sheriff signed on the other.

"My name is Mrs. Garland. I help out here now and then. Now, I can't read nor write but Miss Rachel can. She'll make sure all is good. You'll have to settle money with her too." The frail woman stated as she shut the book and placed it under the counter.

"Mrs. Garland? You wouldn't happen to be related to Fred Garland. The man who was killed by Heath Thomson?" Sheriff Madden asked as he took off his hat to wipe his brow.

"I was his wife." The woman stated as she pointed to a door, which led to the dining area. "You'll get a nice meal in there. I got to see to helping Miss Rachel with your rooms. My daughter Norah will seat you."

Before they could ask the woman anything more, she was gone as quickly as Rachel Caulfield was. Nick Barkley, Fred Madden, and Tim Rakes headed towards the diner. A young girl took them to their seats. There were others at the tables. Most looked like miners. A beautiful girl was handing out the food along with the one referred to as Norah. A young red haired girl was singing while an older man played the piano for her. Her voice was nice entertainment for the small crowd.

"Surprisingly nice place." Nick stated as the girl named Norah took his order. He waited until the girl left before turning to Fred. "I wonder what Fred Garland's widow and daughter are doing working for Heath Thomson? According to the bartender he owns this hotel."

"Beats me." Fred admitted as he settled to check out the small crowd of people around the room. "But someone must know something. No one is acting like four killings took place here only a short time ago."

Soon, Steven Combs had joined the other three seated for dinner."Telegraph office is dead as the rest of this town. This is about the only place with people around."

"Don't surprise me." Nick grunted out. He smiled up at the beautiful girl, who was placing the plates of roast beef on the table. "Thank you, Miss."

The beautiful girl smiled brightly. "My name is Johnna. Eat up. I take pride in my meal. But save yourself some room. I make the best peach cobbler around according to some."

"Sure will." Nick flirtatiously stated. Steven and Tim were also smiling at the vision of beauty.

Sheriff Madden wanted to laugh at the obvious young men. He thought to himself, it wasn't like any man concidered decent would bother with a girl of color. Yet, men were men and looking was another story. Madden held his laughing back when a thin miner leaned over to whisper after Johnna had left.

"Best not be looking her way. She's Heath Thomson's girl." The man held up his bandaged finger. "I looked once and got my finger tip plum taken off."

The miner next to him laughed. "You did more than look, Clyde. Ya done touched her. Then ya got your finger took off by him."

"Shut up." Clyde growled at his friend. "Fred Garland didn't just look and he's dead. So I was just warning them that Heath would kill for her."

"You saw Heath Thomson kill Mr. Garland?" The sheriff leaned over to question the one called Clyde.

"Didn't see it. But I was a customer…" Clyde lowered his voice to a softer whisper. "...at the back of the saloon. Heard commotion from one of the rooms. Red and Fred Garland were in there with Johnna. Seems she was sold to Fred or something. Red was her mama. But Heath didn't care to share whether she was paid for or not. Next thing I know, Heath comes walking out carrying Johnna in his arms and Red and Fred Garland are dead. He left them in pools of their own blood. Never thought Heath would shoot a woman in the back but he did that to Red. Shot her right in the back."

Norah had overheard the conversation as she neared the table. "He done right by killing them both." She said as she slammed water down on the miners' table. "My Pa was mean. Ya'll know that. Ward done tole me that Pa and Red were about to beat her to death. After what those men did to his mama, Heath wasn't about to let the same happen to Johnna. Why call in the law for Heath when they never bothered for what happened to his mama, Hannah or Miss Rachel?" She turned to Nick's table. "Ya'll ought to head back to where you belong and leave us be here."


	14. Chapter 14

**_Chapter Thirteen_**  
 ** _Modesto and Stockton_**

Heath glanced back over his shoulder at the sleeping beauty in the bed. Her auburn hair splayed over the porcelain skin of her back. He buttoned his shirt as a twinge of guilt hit due to thinking of Johnna. He hadn't committed to Johnna but he knew the girl loved him. He may love her too but that wasn't something he had time to dwell on.

The auburn haired saloon girl didn't mind he was a kid in age. She wasn't but about five years older than him anyway. Besides, she got her money and a few more coins for the bottle Heath had bought. Heath got more than the moment of pleasure from her. He got the information he was seeking on one of the men.

The man was a tall skinny gambler with a sharp wit and a quick draw. According to the auburn haired female, the man's name was Jamison Briggs. The rest of the his friends had cleared out days ago. Heath figured he would take this one down then hunt down the other six. How to get the man riled up was easy. The man hated to lose at a card game. It seems Jamison Briggs fancied himself as quite the gambler. He was actually rather good at cards. However, Heath Thomson had been taught by one of the bests in Carterson. Passing time with the old Irish gambler when trying not to dwell on their stomachs being empty was going to come in handy now. The problem was Heath wasn't that great with a six shooter yet. Give him a knife or a rifle, he'd come out the winner. He wasn't so sure about pulling a pistol on someone and coming out the victor.

It was too late to think about being scared. He had already riled up Jamison Briggs by bringing the saloon girl upstairs to enjoy her company for the night. Now Heath would have to make his way to the saloon for a poker game around 6 pm. That is when Jamison was known to play cards and take many a man's money. Heath would have to figure out the rest after he spent some time with Cotton and Hank.

Heath remembered the way the boy reacted when seeing Jamison Briggs.

 _Cotton had almost went into a nervous fit at seeing the gambler. Heath had Hank take the boy to the hotel to keep him safe and his plan a secret._

 _"_ _I want ta help ya, Heath." Hank had protested._

 _"_ _Ya are. Get Cotton to the room. I can take care of this one. I'll need ya later, Hank." Heath handed Hank a half bottle of whiskey. "Give him a shot of this. He'll be out in no time."_

 _Hank snarled his nose up at the drink. Hank never touched the stuff. His Pa had turned him against any strong drink due to the abuse. But Hank knew it would help calm Cotton so Heath could get his job done._

 _"_ _Alright, Boss. But I hear tell he's fast with that gun of his." Hank had heard others in the bar warning about the gambler. He also heard what the auburn haired girl had whispered to Heath. As far as Hank could tell, it seemed like Heath had another female pawing him. The boy was blessed that way, Hank supposed. "I saw ya practicing. You're fast enough but ya ain't got the gunslinging down yet."_

 _Heath flashed a crooked smile at Hank. "I know. I got plans for this other bottle of whiskey. But first I got to spend some time with the pretty little lady named Harriet. Seems she has taken a liking to me but the man I'm seeking has taken a liking to her. Maybe I can get some information to help me take him down."_

 _"_ _Fine. I'll see you later tonight." Hank started towards the door pulling a distraught and whimpering Cotton with him._

 _Heath called after Hank as he wrapped his arm around the auburn haired beauty named, Harriet. "Make that tomorrow."_

 _Hank placed his arm around Cotton's shoulders as he whispered in his ear. "Looks like ole Heath is going to get lucky tonight."_

 _"_ _Is he playin' cards?" Cotton innocently asked causing Hank to chuckle as he pulled the white haired boy from the saloon._

Nick stomped through the front door straight to the liquor table. He poured himself a whiskey and gulped it down.

"Nicholas Barkley?" Victoria stated in a stern voice.

Before Nick's abrupt entrance, Victoria sat on the floor at her husband's knee. She was watching the flames in the fireplace as her head lay against Tom's knee. Tom was kneading his fingers through her hair.

"Aww, Come on, Mother. I need a drink. I've had a bad week." Nick plopped on the chair adjacent his father.

"I take it the man hunt wasn't successful?" Tom stated as he straightened in his seat.

"Not as far as our part it wasn't." Nick took a quick swig of his whiskey. "Seems this Heath Thomson alluded our trail the whole time. The only reason he got caught was he killed a man in Modesto in front of the sheriff."

"He murdered a man in front of the sheriff?" Victoria held her hand over her mouth in shock. She was thankful Audra was away visiting Tom's brother, James. The girl had a tendency to want to listen to all of Nick's stories even if it wasn't appropriate to do so.

"No. He didn't murder him. The man challenged Heath Thomson to a draw. Heath Thomson killed him fair I reckon. Well, according to what Fred heard from the sheriff of Modesto, the man Heath killed was half drunk when he pulled a gun on Heath. Anyway, the sheriff had already been sent a telegram warning that the Thomson fella was headed their way. We tried to follow his trail. The only reason we got even close was the fact that a friend of Heath Thomson left a trail not Thomson himself. Found two bodies out on the trail. Looked to be at Thomson's hands as well. Sheriff Madden thinks those men tried to rob him or Heath them. Either way, they're dead."

"He's leaving a body count." Tom rubbed Victoria's shoulders.

"You have no idea. That makes five or six dead at his hands." Nick shook his head. "But I don't blame him on a few of those deaths. His mother and her friend were raped and killed. One other woman was brutally beaten and raped too. The three lived in the same house with the man and another boy. Made the man go on a killing spree. Seems the law wasn't concerned as one of the women was a black woman, one was a prostitute and the man's mother wasn't married when she gave birth to him." Nick closed his eyes as he leaned his head back.

Due to Nick's eyes being closed, he didn't see his father's brow crease at the description he gave of the small family. Tom gathered his thoughts before speaking. He remembered Leah's name was Sawyer when they had their brief affair. She was a widow for over two years when they met. However, there was a small tickling in his mind that made him remember the name Thomson. Didn't Hannah mention that Leah's maiden name was Thomson? But it couldn't be her son. Their son! Leah said their child had died at birth. Why would she lie about that? Tom realized the moment he had asked himself that the reason. _He was going to take their child from her._

"How old is this man?" Tom sat up even straighter in his chair.

"Didn't ask. Why?" Nick opened his eyes to look at his father.

"Seems a lot of killing being done by him. Made me curious is all." Tom swallowed hoping he wasn't revealing his real reason for asking.

"Never asked. But he is probably about my age. He had not came home from the war for a couple years. He was working for a spread that sold some horses in town to Mr. Morton. Good breeding horses too. Seems this Thomson fella was one of the best of his horse wranglers. At least that is the information we got in town from those who would talk. Strange place. Any way what we heard was he came in to visit his mother and found her grave instead. That's all we found out." Nick sighed out due to his tiredness. "Besides, like I said, he was in the war. I joined at age eighteen. So he has to be around my age."

Tom relaxed a little bit. However, he wanted to ask Nick the name of the woman murdered. He refrained as Leah never had a child before he met her. If it was his son, the boy wouldn't be old enough to join the war. Whoever the woman was couldn't be Leah Thomson. If he had a child with Leah, the child would be around fifteen almost sixteen. Just a boy. Therefore, the man couldn't be his son.


	15. Chapter 15

**_Chapter Fourteen_**  
 ** _San Joaquin Prison_**

 **Due to one of the characters using slang used in old West -Terms** : **Acorn calf** -a weak or runty calf, **Abandons** -foundling, **Anti-goglin** -lopsided, **Balled up** -Confused, **Between Hay and Grass** – Neither man nor boy, half-grown, **Bunko Artist** – A con man.

Warden Emerson Paine could already tell that his new prisoner was something special. The boy was younger than Emerson had thought he'd be. The boy told he was fifteen and there was no doubts in Emerson's mind that the young Heath Thomson was being truthful. At first, Emerson thought the boy was touched in the head. Heath Thomson seemed slightly younger than his age in mind.

Two months after Heath's incarceration, Emerson could see beyond the boy's youthful appearance. He saw wisdom and cunning. He also saw an old soul in the azure eyes that seemed to following and scoping out all around. Why he hadn't noticed the fact before had him chastising himself and his guards.

"Get my lantern and gun, Emmett. We have a manhunt." Emerson patted the old red bloodhound on the top of his head. "Old Duke is about to have himself some fun tonight. We'll have the boy before the morning comes."

Emmett quickly did as he was told. He knew Heath was caught for sure with Old Duke on his trail. The bloodhound hadn't lost a man yet. No less a scrawny boy with an ill mind like Heath Thomson.

Emmett handed Warden Paine his gun. "Don't know what Thomson is thinking. He's between hay and grass in age and less than that in his mind."

"Well, we'll ask him when we have him back here." Emerson loaded his rifle and then had Duke sniff the sheet Heath slept under.

 _One month and a half months earlier…._..

The warden was a fair warden. He treated his prisoners as well as could be expected depending on the crime committed. The Thomson kid hadn't had his trial yet. However, Modesto residents didn't want what they felt as a hardened murderer in their town. Heath Thomson was also rumored to have a gang of outlaws under his wing.

Heath had to laugh at that rumor. He had Cotton and Hank and recently Ward Whitcomb tailing along. Besides, he hadn't really committed a crime yet. Although Heath had to admit killing the gambler wasn't something to be proud of. Heath knew he'd gotten the man too drunk with free whiskey to have a fair gunfight. But Heath never felt a bit of guilt over that. After all, his mama and Hannah hadn't been given a fair chance either.

It would be three months before Heath could have his day in court. Heath didn't figure on staying in prison that long. He'd gained the respect of a few guards and the warden was coming around. He'd only been there two weeks. Heath could be patient. Besides, it wasn't as bad as Carterson. He had two meals a day even if sometimes it was only bread and water. He worked hard in the rock quarry. That gave him some nice sunshine and worked his muscles. But it was the old blood hound that Heath was most delighted to see each day.

Heath threw Old Duke a bite of his bread as he walked by the warden. He stooped to pet the red bloodhound. The dog was harmless as far as biting but it was a known fact the hound could sniff out anything and his speciality was escaped prisoners.

"Won't do you any good to make nice with him, kid." Warden Paine smiled slightly. "He could still sniff you out. Duke knows his job well."

"I've heard, Sir." Heath acted innocent. "Just never had a dog before. My mama couldn't afford to feed me no less a pet. My being a bastard and all."

The warden shook his head acknowledging the boy's words were probably true. He'd seen many an illegitimate child treated badly in his life. His own aunt had given birth to a child born out of wedlock. She deserted the child to his mama. But he was old enough to remember it not being his mother's child. Emerson still loved his sister all the same. It broke their hearts' when a nosey spinster in town told the truth of Abby's birth. The girl was shunned so badly that his mama had to send her to another aunt's home back East.

Heath kept his face masked as if he didn't already hear about Warden Paine having a soft spot for orphans and bastards. No one knew why but the older man seemed to be kind to special cases such as Heath. Heath never thought that his circumstances of birth would pay off any in life. However, Heath wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. If the strict but fair warden was one to look after those less fortunate, who was Heath to not be thankful for the convenient coincidence.

"Just remember he may like you, Thomson, but he'll still hunt you down if you run." The warden tickled behind the red ear of the hound.

"Now why would I do such a thing. I ain't even had my trial yet. Besides, these here accommodations aren't too bad." Heath smiled crookedly at the warden before his face displayed a look of dismay. "Except…"

Emerson noticed the fallen look on the young prisoner's face. If a guard or another prisoner was mistreating the boy, he'd not have it in his prison. "Except what? Are you being mistreated?"

"Oh no, Sir." Heath exclaimed. "It isn't anything."

"Tell me, son." The warden let his softness for the lad show temporarily. After all, the lad had been coming up to him from the day Heath was placed in this place. He was always kind and looked beat down by the world.

"It's just that…" Heath put on his best forlorn look. He already had half the guards thinking he was a sad case. Nothing really sad about him but he could spot a mean spirited person or a kind one real quick. "After being in Carterson, the walls close in on ya."

"Carterson!" The warden exclaimed before gaining his composure. "You?"

"Signed up to feed my family when I was twelve. Foolish but couldn't see my mama starving after keeping me when she could've just let me be an abandon." Heath patted the dog one more time before excusing himself.

Warden Emerson Paine had no idea that he had been conned by the best in only the two short weeks while Heath was there. The guards were just as easy to take a liking to the boy, who all saw as a poor sad case of a child. Heath stayed clear of the guards, who seemed to care less about his plight. He worked on the older guards. The ones he was sure had children of their own. The warden was a tougher case but it didn't take long for Heath to have him feeling sorry for him.

One month after being in the prison, Heath was called into the warden's office. Heath had a inkling that his plan was about to start taking root.

"Thomson, I've been noticing how hard you work." The warden tapped his desk with the end of a small cane.

"Yes, Sir. I'm mighty obliged for you letting me work the rocks and not keeping me in doing laundry duty. I truly like the outdoors, Sir." Heath sounded like a small child with a shiny new toy. Heath had decided copying some of Cotton's actions would go a long way in his plan.

" ." Emerson leaned back and folded his hands in front of him. "I like how you treat Old Duke too. I was thinking I could entrust you to take Duke for his evening runs."

Heath wanted to raise his eyebrow in a knowing manner. Instead, he acted like a kid in a candy store. "Really, sir! I'd get to take him all by myself like he was my very own?"

"Yes. Now, you know he won't let you past the outer perimeter of the forest. He will start howling and let my guards know."

"I'll run him good, Sir. You'll see. I will do my job good. You won't be saying I only gave half a care. I'll take care of him best of anyone ever. I can't believe it. I get to run Old Duke. My mama would be so happy I got me a dog to look after."

"The guards know there is no one traveling in and out of the only road leads here. If you run, Duke can trail you."

Heath was rubbing Duke's head as if he wasn't about to give up taking the dog out for an attempt of escaping. However, he was praying that Rachel got his letter and understood the words and plan. He had one of the guards write it. The guard had no clue what the contents really said.

Heath left the warden and his lead guard smiling.

"That acorn calf sure is happy, Boss." Emmett chuckled. "You made his day."

"I did. I guess the boy being addled sure does like simple things." Emerson placed his hands behind his head as he relished in the fact he had done a good deed for the blonde boy.

Ten days earlier, Rachel had read the letter about needing a blue quilt with daisies on it borrowed from old man Taylor. The only thing old man Taylor had to his name was a Bluetick female dog. Heath had also mentioned that he hoped her garden was coming in good on the south side of town about three miles from Cooper's mill. Heath also mentioned about his favorite part of the day was petting the bloodhound named Duke.

Rachel smiled as she shook her head. "Johnna, tell old man Taylor that we need Daisy. Tell him he can get a free meal a day and a bath a week. But warn him that she may come back to him carrying her some red hound dog's pups."

Just as Heath had hinted to Rachel, Hank had pinned up Daisy three miles from the prison near a stream known as Cooper's Creek. It was south of the prison. Heath took old Duke to visit Daisy two weeks in a row. The third week, he never let Duke go near Daisy. On the fourth day of the third week, Heath snuck out of his cot. He took a deep breath before heading to the planned escape route. The kitchen had an easy access entrance. Heath had figured out a few of the boards were rotting and could be easily pulled away to escape. He took the trail he led Duke on first than he veered north.

Warden Paine and the guards stood shocked staring at Duke with his lady friend, Daisy. Duke had headed South. Now Warden Paine was sure Heath was headed North. There was no way they could find the boy now that they had spent so many hours following the bloodhound thinking he was trailing the boy when the dog was actually going to Daisy, the blue tick hound.

"Heath's anti-goglin grin and child talk had me fooled, Warden. Old Duke is all balled up because of that pretty little bluetick. Reckon the boy done had her pinned here awhile. Heath was a bunko artist. Wasn't he? I thought the boy didn't have nothing but hair under his hat. But that boy wasn't as dull as we thought was he, Emerson?" Emmett blew out a sigh.

Emerson Paine raked his hand through his graying hair. "May as well call it a night. The boy is long gone. And no, Emmett, Heath was far from stupid."

 **Author's Note: I used a song by Blake Shelton called "Ole Red" to get an idea for this chapter. It was my oldest son's favorite song when he was little.**


	16. Chapter 16

_**Chapter Fourteen**_  
 ** _Outskirts of Modesto_**  
 ** _Four months after Heath's escape from prison camp_**

The inhale of the cigarette seemed to calm his nerves some. Heath leaned over in his saddle trying to take the kink out of his back. He'd been riding too long in the saddle and his body was starting to feel it. He figured his horse wasn't none too happy about it either.

Rolling the cigarette around in his lips, Heath studied the land below him. It looked dry and barren as he figured it would. There wasn't too many places to make camp in this area. He'd have to find water and camp there no matter how far or near his destination was.

Cotton was fidgeting on the black mare. The man acted like frogs were in his britches when he was in the saddle too long. Heath had to remind himself that Cotton was a child in his mind despite being a man in body.

"Ya okay, Cotton?" Heath asked knowing the manchild would be honest with him. That was how Cotton was and why Heath had to bring him along. Afterall, a posse was once again after Heath due to his escape months earlier. That meant opening up old questions about the past killings in Strawberry. Which in turn meant that Cotton needed to be out of the line of questioning or the boy would tell that he killed Old Man Garland and Johnna killed her mother, Red.

"My rump is hurting mighty fierce." Cotton rubbed his backside before sitting back down in the saddle. "I'm thirsty too."

"I figure we'll rest up in a bit. We can make camp early. May have to stay more hours than we're used to. In these parts, might be best traveling near evening. Sun is a devil here." Heath pulled his horse's reins as he squinted against the afternoon sun.

Cotton never argued with Heath. The nineteen year old put his trust in the sixteen year old. Heath was Cotton's best friend and hero. The boy knew Heath would take care of him. That he never doubted.

Hank and Ward never argued either. Heath knew their loyalty was more out of fear than respect especially Ward. Hank was following Heath more out of gratitude as far as Heath could decipher. Ward was going along for the ride. That confused Heath as he knew Ward had taken a shine to Hank's sister, Nora. He couldn't figure out what Ward's decision to go along was for. However, Ward had took up to going along with their group a few times before Heath was captured in Modesto after killing the gambler.

Sweat caused Heath's back to itch as it trickled down his spine. He didn't like the feeling of being this dirty and figured Cotton liked it even less. However, the wages of wrath had brought him this far. He didn't plan on turning back. He had four more men to kill before he would consider what was to be of his future.

Heath had killed four men all together and one woman. He was accused of two more murders but wasn't too worried about those notches added to his belt. The newspapers had him a coldblooded killer without a cause. They didn't have a photo of Heath to share and the drawing of him made Heath look more like a thirty year old man than a sixteen year old boy. That suited Heath just fine as he wasn't as noticed in towns. Heath had even saw a photo of some of the posse after him. Heath had to admit it was strange seeing a photo of your own brother for the first time. It seems Nick Barkley was one of the main men on Fred Madden's posse, who had joined up with a famous lawman named Frank Sawyer.

The newspapers exaggerated Heath's life thus far of the boy being a cheating gambler with the love of women and strong drink. Heath now had a bounty on his head. Besides that, he had heard more killings were associated with his name than truth be told. As far as he was concerned about those he did kill, he hadn't murdered any of them. He didn't really give the dead second thought. Let the dead bury the dead was how he figured it. Even if he was the one who did the killing. They had planned to kill him and he drew first blood. It was as simple as that. Besides, the men he was after never gave his mama and Hannah a chance or a second thought either.

After they found a suitable amount of water for them and their horses, Heath and the others made camp. Heath pulled out the making for another cigarette as he pushed his bangs from his face. Rachel had given him a good haircut before he left Strawberry months ago. He wasn't sure how long that was. He did know his birthday had passed somewhere along the way. He hadn't celebrated that day since he was twelve. That was the last celebration of his being born. It was the last he saw of being a child as well.

Heath had bathed as best he could before helping Cotton get cleaned up. Ward had bathed as well. Hank still had the stench on him. Heath didn't know how a man could go so long without a good cleaning unless forced to do so. Heath had went seven months without a good bathing. That was in Carterson Prison. Heath was too busy feeling his stomach gnaw at itself to worry over cleanliness while there. Although he had to admit, having lice and scabs take over your body did make for a desire to feel clean.

"Hank, take a bath." Heath didn't know why he ordered that from the larger boy. It was the twenty year old's business if he bathed or not.

"What?" Hank's head snapped around to glare at Heath.

"You heard me. You're stinking up camp." Heath growled as he inhaled his smoke. Something about a man not bathing when he had a chance irked Heath. If Hank had to endure what Heath had in Carterson, he'd appreciate a chance to bath. "Besides, we don't know when we will get a chance again. Best clean up while you can."

"He has to wash his own clothes." Cotton said as he hung up the wet clothes of his and Heath's. "Ward too."

"I got to warsh my clothes too, Boss?" Hank whined as he started stripping his attire. All four of the men had only one change of clothes with them. He didn't mind work but never cared one way or the other about putting on his extra set of clothes.

Heath cursed as he looked up at Hank. "Stand down wind from me."

"There ain't no wind." Hank said as he stepped farther away from Heath.

"Shows how bad you stink." Heath chuckled as he took another draw of his self made cigarette.

Hank laughed heartily as he continued stripping before heading to the water hole to retrieve water in his hat. He figured if his boss wanted him to bath, he'd bath.

Heath had to lay low due to escaping the prison camp. However, he was still set on tracking the men who killed his mama and Hannah as well as raped Rachel. The way he figured it, he could be patient. If it took him months or years, it didn't matter as long as each and every one of the five men were dead. One down. Four to go.

Heath had also been practicing getting faster with his six shooter. He was already a dead shot with a rifle or pistol as well as fast with a knife but quickness with a gun was different than with a knife. Heath was getting much quicker and could challenge those known for their fast draw now. The gambler was faster than Heath so Heath made sure the man drank enough to slow him down. Heath could care less that some would see that as an unfair fight. As long as the man was dead, it didn't matter how the world saw it. The gambler pulled his gun first. Heath simply obliged the man by pulling his gun faster due to the man being drunk. Heath didn't think much of it. As he thought earlier, one down and four to go.

Heath studied Ward as the man poked at the campfire. There was something up with him. Heath hadn't figured it out yet but something was definitely off with his childhood friend. Ward was usually the one who picked up the joking and taunting of Hank. He was also the one to be windy with some type tale as they camped. Yet, the seventeen year old seemed unusually quiet since he had met back up with them at Cattles Creek on the outskirts of Modesto.

Ward had been gone a week visiting Nora in Strawberry. He was the one to keep Heath informed on Rachel and Johnna, who were both doing well. Johnna had sent some tasty treats for them all. She had even sent Heath a letter sealed in an envelope. The envelope contained a piece of paper with honeysuckle pressed between the page. Heath saw words written on the paper but couldn't read them. It told him his Aunt Rachel was teaching Johnna to read and write.

He supposed he may have someone read him the words when he met someone he could trust. Right now, the words were private between him and Johnna. He kept the letter inside of his vest pocket. He hoped Ward didn't taunt Johnna with the fact that Heath had been with other women since leaving Johnna behind in Strawberry. Those women meant nothing to him. He wasn't sure Johnna did either but no use hurting the girl with such truths.

Hank came back dressed in long underwear. He was carrying his sopping wet clothes. He held the clothes out to show Heath as he grinned proudly.

"I warshed my clothes and my hair real good, Boss. Reckon the women won't be lookin' your way no more." Hank winked as he started wringing out the clothes near a clump grass. "I was only tryin' to give you a fightin' chance with the ladies by not bathin'."

"I appreciate that, Hank." Heath grinned crookedly. "But I hate to inform you. There ain't ladies around for miles. By the time we see us some females, you'll have raised up another stink."

Hank shrugged with a sly grin plastered on his face. He settled down by the fire, where Cotton was frying up a rattlesnake Heath had shot earlier. Heath's brow furrowed when he noticed that Ward was no longer around the fire. Before he could get up to check, Heath heard a gunhammer cock.

"Don't move." The tall dark clad man stated as he stepped out from behind a bolder. "You're completely surrounded."

The next man to step forward had a badge pinned to his chest. He was holding a gun on Ward as he pushed him forward. "Toss over your weapons, boys."

"Don't try anything stupid." The tall figure stated as he nodded towards Hank. "We only want Heath Thomson. The rest of you aren't wanted by the law."

Heath's gun was pulled out from his holster. He wanted to laugh at the irony of being caught by the dark haired man. Of all the men in California, why this man?

"Boss?" Hank asked as he closed his hands into tight fists.

"Do as they say, Hank? No use gettin' yourself in trouble." Heath was pulled up harshly by another man with a badge.

It seemed a posse had been tailing him. There were five in all. Heath was beginning to hate that number. Heath wondered how they could track his trail. Heath knew how to get lost when he wanted to. His answer came in the next few seconds.

"Are you sure this is him?" The dark clad cowboy asked. Heath noticed the slight nod Ward made but Cotton or Hank did not. "I can't believe Heath Thomson is this young. How old are you boy?"

"Old enough to make your lady squeal in delight and make your mama want to." Heath taunted knowing it would get a rise from the dark dressed man.

Cotton started to run at the man who shoved Heath harshly. Hank caught him around the waist.

"Don't make trouble, Cotton."

"Thanks, Hank." Heath said before turning his glare towards the dark haired man. "You're a Barkley. Ain't ya?"

"What is it to you,boy?" Nick Barkley shoved Heath forward. Something about the boy unnerved him. Maybe it was his smart mouth or his age. Nick wasn't sure but the familiarity of the boy had him rattled. "You snot nose little…"

"Now. Now. Didn't your pa and ma teach you that name calling is bad manners?" Heath laughed as Nick continued to thrust him towards the sheriff.

"Cuff him, Frank. Can you gag him too?" Nick glanced back at Hank, who was trying to comfort the white haired boy. It was obvious the boy was weak in mind. He felt sorry for him. "You all can come along. You're not under arrest but you need to hand over your weapons. Can't take a chance with you trying to save your friend."

Hank looked at Heath for advice. Heath smiled crookedly. "Best follow along. Might get you a meal from the deal. Maybe even a hotel room." Heath knowingly looked at Ward. "I bet Ward would be willing to pay."


	17. Chapter 17

**_Chapter Sixteen_**  
 ** _Stockton, California_**

The lawyer, Jarrod Barkley, flipped through the file for the third time. There wasn't enough information on the man to satisfy the diligent attorney. Jarrod knew the information he needed wasn't important to the prosecuting attorney. On the other hand, Jarrod thought the only chance for the man was to get some personal information on him.

Only the facts to help hang the man resided in the cream colored envelope. The past only consisted of the man's army record. He figured the prosecutor had retrieved that information due to it would help convict the man. He was a sharpshooter. He was a prisoner of war. That was all the record showed letting a possible jury know the man was able to kill another human. As far as the prisoner of war, they could use that to make the man look beaten down, angry, and perhaps slightly insane. Maybe he was.

Jarrod rubbed his neck as he turned down the lamp. He needed to speak to this man before he could get a clear view of what to do in this case. After all, it was his first criminal case. He was looking forward to it more than anyone realized. His father and mother were very supportive. His siblings had their own lives to deal with. Nick was too interested in the ranch to bother worrying of Jarrod's dreams. Audra was only fourteen and beginning to be curious of boys. Big brother's aspirations weren't a concern. This was about what he wanted and how his life was going to go after this case.

He knew how to win a case as far as business dealings or legalities. He was well sought after by many in those scenarios. That didn't give Jarrod Barkley the satisfaction of why he became a lawyer. Sure helping a farmer, who was being cheated, or a widow keep her land were noble cases. He enjoyed seeing that justice was done in many cases like that. However, Jarrod Barkley wanted more to his career of being a lawyer. Now, he had to prove he had what it took for criminal law. Of all the cases to prove that on, Jarrod was thrown an almost impossible case.

The man was accused of killing at least three people in cold blood. Then two were killed in self defense. Two more people were killed by the man but not sure what took place there. The law had no proof either way on those two. It could be self defense or it could be a robbery by the man.

Jarrod would have the prosecuting attorney declare that two were clearly self defense. His aunt was after him with a butcher knife. The other man, a gambler, was drunk and pulled a gun. He would take care of those cases first thing. Therefore, Jarrod had to concentrate on the other three murders.

Grace or Red was the most difficult to wrap his head around. She was a prostitute. She was shot in the back. Jarrod hated that he would use her lifestyle to shed favor on Heath Thomson. But he had to use his only resources to work this case. Fred Garland was killed but that could've been self defense even if the man had no weapon. He was huge. Jarrod would have to get a look at the man named Heath Thomson. If he were smaller in build than Mr. Garland, that could help Mr. Thomson's case. Then there was the man's uncle. According to some, the man had been an abusive uncle. At least that was in the file.

Jarrod rubbed his neck again. Life in prison for the man would have to be his goal. Hanging is what the prosecutor wanted. Jarrod knew the case didn't look good. The man had killed two women. That was a huge blot against any man no less one like Heath Thomson. Which was another problem Jarrod faced. Prejudice of Heath Thomson being an illegitimate born. Most saw people like that unworthy of life already. That was also a note in the file. Obviously the prosecutor was going to use that fact. Jarrod never did understand and never would how a person's birth had anything to do with the person himself.

Tomorrow morning Jarrod Barkley would begin his first case. He had a new suit already hanging in the corner of his office ready to put on. He'd meet this man, Heath Thomson. Jarrod would find out information not in the file such as the man's age and place of birth. That wasn't there because it was of no use to the prosecution. However, Jarrod knew that some times interviewing people from a man's past could help shed light onto a situation. Therefore, Jarrod would listen to this man's story and find out more information to help in the man's case.

Jarrod stood up and stretched. He already informed his father he would be staying at his office for the night. He didn't want to be tainted by Nick's view of the man. After all, Nick had been on the posse that caught Heath Thomson. For months, Nick had ridden on and off with Fred Madden and Frank Sawyer in search of the man. The trail would be hot than cold. The man was good at hiding and not being tailed. Nick would sometimes take off with a posse after the man as he was determined to help catch him. Then he'd come back to the ranch when the trail ran cold. A lucky break came by one of the man's friends turning him in for the reward money. Jarrod wondered what type of man could be easily traded for a $500.00 bounty.

_

Nick Barkley paced back and forth in front of the large fireplace in the Barkley mansion. His fist repeatedly slammed into the palm of his hand.

"Nicholas Jonathan Barkley, would you please settle down?" Victoria looked up from her mending. "What has gotten into you?"

"Mother is right, Nick. You've been wound tight since you came home from riding with the posse." Audra stated as she jerked her finger back after sticking it with a needle. "Ouch."

"Be careful, dear. I told you when you darn socks to pay closer attention." Victoria admonished her fourteen year old daughter before readdressing Nick. "You caught that man, didn't you?"

"Yeah. We got him." Nick stopped pacing long enough to pour himself a whiskey. "Where's Jarrod?"

"Judge McCoy set him up with a criminal case. He was biting at the bit for one. He is staying in town for the night." Thomas Barkley spoke as he walked into the parlor. "Pour me one too, son. I'm beat. Getting those cattle to water was a might tiring."

"Did you get them all there?" Nick handed his father the drink he had poured before filling another glass for himself.

"Yep." Tom said as he leaned to kiss his wife before plopping down into his favorite chair. "Didn't lose a one of them. Could have used your help though." The graying blonde pulled off his boots as he stretched out his legs. "Smells like Silas is cooking up a roast beef."

"Well, Fred Madden needed men for his posse or I'd been to ride with a famous lawman like Frank Sawyer sealed the deal with me going along." Nick threw back the whiskey allowing it to burn its way down his throat. "We wouldn't have caught up to Heath Thomson if it wasn't for his own turning against him."

Victoria nodded as she smiled at her husband. "Silas is indeed making roast beef. Nick was getting ready to tell us why he's acting in such a manner, Darling. Isn't that right, Nick?"

Tom arched an eyebrow as he waited for his son to inform the family why he was so agitated. Nick rubbed his hand across his scruffy chin before he leaned against the fireplace. He stared at the cold unburned wood before sighing.

"Nothing really. It's the fact the boy was so young. They say Heath Thomson has killed around nine or ten men. Doesn't seem possible being that young." Nick squeezed one hand into a fist. He'd not mention that the boy had him shook up due to his familiarity. Nick was trying to figure out where he saw him before.

"How old was he, Nick?" Audra placed her mending aside as she asked.

"Perhaps, this isn't a conversation for young ladies." Victoria warned her daughter, who seemed too interested in things of such nature.

"Oh, Mother. I merely asked his age." Audra proclaimed. "It isn't like I want the details of the capturing him or this Heath Thomson's crime spree."

"Very well, dear." Victoria patted Audra's knee. "Nick?"

"The boy was only a couple of years older than Audra the way I figure it." Nick watched as his mother and sister gasped. He never noticed Tom's sudden look of shock displayed on his face. "Sad how a kid could turn out like that. Wonder what made his life that way?"

"It is hard tellin'. Some aren't as blessed as you have it here, Nick." Tom stood up as he watched Silas enter the room. He needed a distraction from the information about Heath Thomson. Could it be possible? "Looks like it is time to eat. I'm starved."

Victoria latched onto Tom's arm. She smiled up at him as he crookedly smiled down at her.

Nick's breath hitched in his lungs when he saw his father's smile. It was the same smile on his father he had seen on the boy. He stood motionless until Audra placed her hand in the crook of Nick's arm.

"You get to lead me to dinner, Nick." Audra joked. "Jarrod isn't going to be home tonight."

Nick smiled down at his little sister. Again, his breath was caught momentarily. He wanted to deny the reality of his little sister having the same features as the blonde gunslinger. It was coincidental. That's all it was. Nick had to deny the facts staring him in the face.

After all, if the facts were anything but coincidence that Heath Thomson looked like his father and little sister, Nick would have to face that it may be his father's fault of why a young man could be caught up in the life Heath Thomson was.


	18. Chapter 18

**_Chapter Seventeen_**  
 ** _Stockton, California_**

Heath sighed as he looked around the jail cell. At least he was in a cot that wasn't too uncomfortable. He had already eaten a good dinner the night before and was told breakfast would be served at 6 A.M. sharp. The sheriff seemed hospitable enough. He did his job as well as any lawman Heath had witnessed.

Heath had no idea where the information was obtained that he had killed another man when he escaped from under Warden Emerson's watch. He guessed that was more fabrication to make him into a legend of the West. Heath didn't much care for notoriety. He'd rather just get his killing of the men over and done with. Of course, Heath knew there was a possibility that he'd be the one dying at the end of the gun. Heath had no real plans for his future. His only hope was he'd live long enough to get full vengeance for his Mama, Hannah, and Rachel.

The teen girl, who bought him his breakfast, was an easy target. The girl was on the homely side and most likely got very little attention from the males in the world. Heath smiled and winked at her. Sheriff Madden stood back with his gun ready in case Heath tried something. Heath hadn't said a word to the sheriff. That seemed to not deter him from whispering something to Anna, the cook's niece. The girl blushed a deep crimson before she placed the breakfast tray down.

Heath thanked her in his usual quiet tone as his finger slightly raked the back of her hand as he moved the tray from her towards him. The girl giggled as she forgot this young man was a killer. Instead, she saw a handsome teen boy flirting with her. At lunch, Heath would use her to get some information to Hank. Hank and Heath had talked when on the trail of ways to help Heath when he needed it. Now it was up to Heath to get the information to Hank. He hoped Hank didn't give Ward any information. Heath figured Ward was headed back to Strawberry to see Nora. He figured $500 would come in handy to start a life with a girl. His thoughts fleeted momentarily to Johnna. There was no time to think of her right now. Even if he did miss her more than he had expected to.

Sheriff Madden watched Anna leave before he turned to stare at the young man eating his breakfast. "I heard tell you have a lawyer on the way this afternoon."

Heath arched his eyebrow as he took a bite of his scrambled eggs. He didn't figure he'd have too many biting at the bit to take his case. Heath knew the law and most folk wanted him hung. Problem was Heath hadn't done anything to be hung for. Knowing that and telling it were two different things. If Heath told the whole truth, he would put Cotton and Johnna in the line of fire to be hung. Heath knew that wasn't an option. He'd have to figure out a way without the truth in the murders of Red and Garland being revealed. The rest of the kills were straight out self defense. Although Ward informed him that Matt Simmons's death was supposed to be in cold blood. Heath knew that his uncle had a pistol there. He figured Ward, Hank, or Johnna were witnesses to that when he pried the pistol from his uncle's fingers. Those facts didn't help much when two lay dead in cold blood.

Sheriff Madden shook his head in confusion. The boy sure was a conundrum. Fred had witnessed the boy taunting Nick Barkley the whole ride back to Stockton. He figured the boy would be nothing but trouble. Madden figured the boy would be talking nonstop once in the cell. Instead, Heath Thomson was quieter than a church mouse on Sunday morning. The boy sure had riled up Nick though. It was as if it was the boy's personal mission to irritate Nick Barkley like a bur under a saddle bothered a horse.

The strange thing was that Sheriff Madden noticed the more the boy taunted Nick, the more Nick enjoyed the boy's ribbing. It was a strange thing to witness as Nick tried not to laugh at the boy's barbs at him. Fred had never seen Nick not want to throw a punch for less than the boy was dishing out. At first, Nick was wanting to strangle the kid. However, the longer they rode the more Nick seemed to enjoy the boy's quick wit. Fred had to admit that Nick was doing the baiting on more than one occasion. He also could see the boy seemed to know how to get Nick good while still keeping Nick from wanting to take things in his hands. It was the first time in Fred's life that he had seen someone have Nick Barkley figured out so well.

Fred slid his hand across his chin as he headed back to the front office. He already told the kid to just slide his empty tray under the cell door when finished. The glass holding milk wouldn't fit but he could get that when Anna returned with Heath's lunch.

As Heath scarfed down his breakfast, he busied himself thinking about meeting his brother. He hadn't expected to feel anything like the connection he felt. He knew he was only a half brother to a real Barkley. People like Heath weren't meant to be claimed as family. It didn't make him feel at ease with the instant feeling of brotherhood with the dark clad rancher. He had actually enjoyed himself as they headed towards Stockton. Too bad the reality was he was a prisoner captured and held by his own kin.

Heath didn't dwell on that very long. The two brothers were from different worlds and if Heath lived through this, it would stay that way. Heath thought about Ward for a few minutes. The man had something coming to him but Heath wasn't sure what. He couldn't kill even if he did have a want to try. He'd think of something if he got out of this current mess. Heath figured never to trust anyone again except Cotton. Perhaps he could trust Rachel and Johnna too. However, Rachel's ill mind may slip up on him. Johnna cared but did she care enough when it came down to her well being or his? Heath didn't care to test that situation out.

Heath glanced at the Stockton newspaper which was laid on his tray by the sheriff. Heath wished he could read the words to pass the time. Maybe there was more information about the rest of the Barkley family. He heard tell the man, who sired him, was a big deal in these parts and across California. He also heard he had another brother, who was a fancy lawyer or doctor. Heath couldn't remember which. All he knew was the man was someone to look up to with a highfalutin education. He also heard he had a younger sister or brother. He sure hoped it was a sister. It would be kind of interesting to think about having older brothers and a younger sister. If it was another brother, that would be interesting too he guessed.

Heath found himself drifting off to sleep. He wouldn't fight it. He always wondered why he never had nightmares like some of the other soldiers from the war. Heath sometimes thought maybe his heart was too cold to care about suffering of himself or others. Then he'd think of his mama and realize how she had taught him to be thankful for life given. For every day was a blessing from the good Lord and not to waste a minute being frightened by things past or fearful of things in the future. She told him to concentrate on the gifts of the present. He remembered she would say don't think about the meat not on the table but give praise to the Lord for the bread because someone out there didn't even have bread to eat.

Heath figured he'd not dwell on the fact that the law wanted him to hang. Instead, he'd think about the nice cot and good meals the law was providing for him. Tomorrow would be another day to dwell on as he'd meet the lawyer stuck with his case. Heath thought that was a gift too. He didn't expect someone to go to court with him on his side. He chuckled at that thought right before he drifted off to sleep.


	19. Chapter 19

**_Chapter Eighteen-The End_**

 ** _The Deadly Sins_**  
 ** _the sins of pride,greed, lust, (wrath), gluttony, envy, and sloth._**

 ** _Wrath-The End_**  
Note: Here we are back at the prologue ...

 _The sheriff arched his eyebrow as Jarrod walked through his door. "Don't tell me you got stuck with this case, Jarrod?"_

 _"I believe so, Sheriff Madden." Jarrod shook the sheriff's hand. "How is he doing? Is the prisoner causing you trouble?"_

 _"No. Actually, it is the opposite. The boy hasn't said two words to me." Sheriff Madden pushed back his hat from his eyes._

 _"Boy?" Jarrod questioned in confusion._

 _"You better come with me, Jarrod." The sheriff stood up and retrieved the keys as he did. "See for yourself."_

 _Jarrod was taken aback by the young boy in the jail cell. He couldn't have been no more than sixteen or seventeen. He didn't look like the hardened criminal Jarrod had read about in the file. Actually, if anything, the boy looked almost angelic with his cherub face and blonde hair. Even his blue eyes sparkled with innocence as he looked up from the cot he was lying on._

 _"I'm Jarrod Barkley. I was assigned to be your lawyer." Jarrod reached his hand out between the bars of the jail cell. He placed his hand back down to his side when the young man refused to take it._

 _A small chuckle could be heard from the boy as he glanced up at Jarrod. It was then that Jarrod noticed the soft blue eyes harden into anger. The boy spoke quietly surprising both Jarrod and Sheriff Madden._

 _His slow southern drawl accentuated his words. "This is going to be fun."_

Heath didn't know why seeing this Barkley brother caused him a sudden anger to rise up. It was probably the fancy suit the man was wearing. Then Heath reminded himself it wasn't this man's fault he had a bastard half brother. He couldn't help but think about the irony of it. His feelings went from anger to a sudden amusement.

Jarrod looked curiously at the boy. He cleared his throat. "I'd like to speak to my client alone. Please."

"Certainly." Sheriff Madden nodded towards a chair that sat along the wall opposite the cell. "Use that chair, Jarrod."

"Thanks." Jarrod stated before watching Sheriff Madden walk away. Once Madden was out of earshot, Jarrod pulled up the chair next to the jail cell. He pulled open the file he was holding.

"That about me?" Heath asked as he nodded towards the file as he stood up.

"Yes. As a matter of fact it is." Jarrod was glad the young man was talking to him even if he was confused by the first words exchanged between them.

"Don't believe everything you read." Heath slid his hands up and down his jeans. He was thankful he had taken a bath before being captured. It made being in a cell much more tolerable. Heath also admitted to himself that he didn't want this fancy half brother thinking he was a dirty tramp even if the man had no idea he was his brother.

"Fair enough. How about I ask you a few questions about the information in the file and you tell me if it is true or not?" Jarrod pulled a pencil from his pocket to make notes.

"Reckon I can do that iffin I want to." Heath sat back down on the cot and crossed his legs at his ankles. "Shoot." A grin formed on the young blonde's face. "Not the best choice of words."

"No. I guess not." Jarrod was trying to be professional but he was taking an instant liking to the young gunman. "First question. How old are you?"

"How old does it say?" Heath arched his eyebrow. "That there file. How old does it have me?"

"Well it says you joined the army at age eighteen. You were one of the elite of division known as Calvin's Crew, a sharpshooting unit. You were in the war a little over a year before being captured and spending seven months in Carterson Prison. Then another four months in an army hospital. The war has been over three years. That would make you around twenty-two or twenty-three years of age." Jarrod fiddled with his string tie. Maybe a new suit wasn't a good idea for this particular client. The boy didn't seem to be impressed easily with material things. "I'd like the truth, Mr. Thomson."

"I'm sixteen." Heath admitted. He figured why lie about it. "I joined the army at age twelve. Needed the money. But the rest is true but the age. I don't want to talk about that though."

Jarrod knew the kid was young. He couldn't help but to be taken aback even if he knew the facts staring him in the face. The boy was only sixteen and was going to hang or spend his life in prison. Jarrod could tell the kid wasn't wanting to say anymore. The boy laid back on the cot and covered his eyes with his arm.

That didn't stop Jarrod from questioning the boy. He needed the information from the young man to help his case.

"Where were you born?" Jarrod once again questioned the boy trying to pry out more information.

Heath wanted to say for Jarrod to ask his daddy but he refrained. This man wasn't like the other brother. He'd not react to the barbs or jabs that Heath could make. Therefore, Heath decided to answer once again with honesty.

"Strawberry, California."

"Do you have family I need to contact?" Jarrod pulled his string tie loose and let it hang around his neck. He knew the boy was studying him earlier. He wanted the young man to feel at ease.

Heath quirked his mouth sideways then propped his head up with his elbow. "You'd do that for me? I didn't realize that is a lawyer duty."

"It's not. However, I'm sure your family would want to know where you are." Jarrod could tell the boy was thinking hard about something. Jarrod wasn't sure what.

Heath sat up again to look at Jarrod. He decided this man deserved his respect rather than his obstinance. "I'm mighty obliged. I have no family though. My mama is dead. Never had no pa to tell of."

"Friends?" Jarrod was hoping for a name to contact in Strawberry.

"I have a few but they know where I am." Heath sighed out as he stared down for a moment trying to think how to act around this brother. The other one was an easy read. This brother was all professional and kept his character in check for his client.

"Did you have your evening meal, Mr. Thomson?" Jarrod thought he would rethink how to treat this case. The boy was so young.

"Yes. Mr. Barkley, there are mitigating circumstances about my life." Heath didn't know why he decided to tell this man the truth. He admitted to himself part of him wanted to impress this rich brother of his. Part of him wanted to pique Jarrod's interest. "Like I said, this is going to be fun."

Jarrod's head snapped up at the use of the term by the boy. He was intelligent. There was no question about that.

"Before we get into that. Is there anything you'd like for me to do?" Jarrod wondered if the kid needed a change of clothes. Maybe a shave or haircut.

Heath sat up. He reached inside his vest pocket. Heath wasn't sure why but he trusted Jarrod Barkley and this was his way of telling him."Could you read this for me? I can't read."

Jarrod took the letter from Heath's outstretched hand. He could see the boy seemed ashamed of being illiterate. It wasn't unusual for people being illiterate in the west. However, the boy seemed to not want to admit that. Here was a cold blooded killer ashamed of not being able to read.

"Certainly." Jarrod pulled the paper from the envelope. He immediately noticed the scent of honeysuckle waft into the room. He knew it was from a female. The scroll on the letter was obviously from a person who was new to writing.

 _Dear Heath,_

 _I sent you some food you might like. Miss Rachel said your mama used to make those kind of cookies for you for your birthday. We missed your birthday but Ward doesn't come around the hotel often when he visits. He mostly is courting Nora Garland. So the cookies are real late getting to you. But this is a fresh batch._

 _I'm getting better at cooking. The hotel looks real nice. We changed the name from Strawberry Hotel to Leah's and Hannah's Boarding House. I painted the sign and Jeb Lycan's hung it for me. We figured you'd like that. I hope we make you proud._

 _It took awhile to write this. Miss Rachel checked over and changed my spelling for me. She still comes and goes. Some days are good but some days are bad. I hope you find someone to read it to you. I know you'd have caught on quick to writing and reading. You're that smart._

 _I miss you. I miss how we feel together. I think about making love to you sometimes when I sit in the porch swing at the front of the hotel. I had Mr. Barker help me move it from your old house. I haven't let another man touch me just as I promised. I don't expect the same faithfulness from you because you never promised the same to me._

 _I love you. I always will._

 _Faithfully yours forever,_  
 _Johnna_

Jarrod placed the letter back into the envelope. He looked up at Heath as he handed the letter back to him. He couldn't help but notice the boy was blushing a bright red. A gunman was blushing over a letter from a girl. Things didn't fit with this kid.

After placing the letter back into his vest pocket, Heath whispered barely loud enough to hear. "Sorry. I didn't know she was going to get all personal like."

Jarrod started to say something but was interrupted by a loud booming sound. Then he ducked as brick flew through the air. Heath threw himself under the cot as bricks scattered around him. He peered out from under the cot to see a gaping hole in his cell leading to outside alley behind the jail.

Hank and Cotton stood peering through the hole. Both had bandannas over their faces.

Hank yelled through the settling smoke."You okay, Heath?"

Sheriff Madden came rushing from the front of the jail. He stopped in shock at seeing a hole in his jailhouse. Before he could react, Heath Thomson stood with a gun in his hand given to him by Cotton.

"Best toss that gun this way, Sheriff. No use anyone getting hurt." Heath nodded towards the sheriff then to the floor in front of him.

Sheriff Madden knew Jarrod was in the line of fire. Therefore, he tossed his gun towards Heath Thomson. Heath picked up the gun and placed it in the front of his pants as he kept his gun trained on the sheriff and Jarrod.

Heath backed out the open wall as he continued to hold his towards the sheriff and lawyer. Fred had heard stories of how quick the boy could kill a man. He didn't feel up to dying today so he was glad he had discarded his own weapon. That was until Heath dropped the sheriff's gun in a water barrel outside of the jail.

"Ya could've killed me." Heath said to Hank as he backed up. "I told ya to worn me somehow."

"Naw. Ya was fine. That little gal from the restaurant told me your cot was far side of the cell. She sure was charmed by ya. She did just as you asked. Poor girl didn't know why you told her to tell me where your cot was though. Besides, I know how to use one stick. I worked the mines too, Heath."

Heath grabbed Charger and lept into the saddle without using the stirrups. He held his gun with one hand but gave a two fingered salute to Jarrod.

"Well, can't say this wouldn't have been an adventure, Mr. Barkley. But seein' as I have to talk to a friend about his greed, I best be on my way."

Jarrod stood up staring after the quickly retreating trio. He looked at the sheriff.

"What just happened, Jarrod?" Fred scratched his head in disbelief.

Jarrod shook his head with a chuckle before answering. "I do believe I lost my first client in a criminal law case, Fred."

 **The End-Wrath**

 **Author's NOTE: Thanks for all those who have read and reviewed this fanfic. I appreciate it more than you know.**


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